Spoiled, Too
by Bad Girl McGuire
Summary: COMPLETE. Enjoy the melodrama. And many thanks to my readers! BGM
1. Spilt Milk

A/N: This will be a sequel to my lone Lizzie McGuire story, Spoiled. A few reviewers posed the question of what might happen next, what happens when Lizzie finds out, etc., and my imagination was sparked to run with that idea and thus write this sequel. I don't really know what to call it, so for the time being, I'm calling it Spoiled, Too.

First, some housekeeping: to Mikayla Nadaly, who posed the question "What does having your period the week before have to do with anything though?" I feel compelled to provide this answer:

IN GENERAL, a woman can become pregnant midway through her menstrual cycle, or about 14 days after the start of her period, 14 days before the start of her next period, if her body is on the standard 28 day cycle. So if Miranda is having her period regularly, and if she had her period only a week before she slept with Gordo, then it would be highly unlikely she would become pregnant, and thus her (and Gordo's) relief. I say it would be "unlikely," yet not impossible. Anything is possible, that's why the Rhythm Method of Birth Control sucks. But for the purposes of this story, I gave them a break for being stupid enough to have sex without using birth control. Of course, next time they might not be so lucky. But that's a whole NOTHER story, not this one.

Anyway, this is all incredibly basic yet extremely important stuff, and to everyone I say: if you have access to the internet to read FanFiction, then you no doubt have access to sites that will explain basic sex education to you, and I urge you all to take advantage. We write stories here for entertainment purposes and for DRAMA, and sometimes our characters act stupid, but that's no excuse for people in real life not knowing this stuff and using this knowledge to help make wise decisions. KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. Don't forget that.

Okay, sex ed lesson is over, and I'm off my soapbox. Now, one more thing before we get on with the story: sorry, green aura. Dead wrong. I'm very much a girl. I just happen to know how guys think. Hopefully. Well, this next chapter will test that, as I'll be following Gordo around on "the morning after." Let's go!

Any Saturday morning during the better part of that summer between their freshman and sophomore year, Gordo and Miranda could be found at the Starbuck's three blocks from the stadium, quietly studying as they sipped iced cappuccinos and ate Chips Ahoy cookies they'd smuggled from home.

Only this Saturday they were not there.

This Saturday, Gordo was sitting nervously in the sun-speckled living room of the boarding house where they both lived, waiting for Miranda to wake up, bound down the stairs and smile "Hey, Gordo!" as if everything between them was as peachy keen as it always had been.

Which it was not.

The previous night, things had…well, things had gotten out of hand. No matter how many times Gordo ran the scene through his head, he couldn't quite account for how they had gone from being good friends simply hanging out, listening to music, talking idly into the night, to being two bodies and souls, entwined in each other, visiting plateaus of pleasure previously unexplored. There had been moaning, and groaning, and all manner of intense quivering. And then there had been tears, and accusations, and simply awful words (on Miranda's part), the most cutting which had been "What I want is for you to leave me alone for a very…very long while."

Gordo didn't want to believe she had really meant that. Not now! Now when at last they had both come to the full realization of how much they liked each other, even _loved _each other. He understood that she was overwhelmed. He was too, wanting her and needing her now, more than ever. And so he sat, and waited. And waited some more, watching the quiet speckles of dusty sunlight move slowly across the pale brown carpet, which, he noted, badly needed to be vacuumed.

Jeffrey Parker, their roommate, ran down the stairs and called "Hey!" Then Brianna zipped through, grabbing some pop tarts from the kitchen before disappearing out the back door. When Chester, the party animal, appeared, disheveled and unshaven, Gordo knew something was wrong. Miranda never slept later than Chester!

"Randa?" Chester managed, coughing in answer to Gordo's question. "Oh yeah, dude. I saw her. This morning as I was coming in, she was going out. I said, 'Whoa! Randa!' And she said, 'Hey, Chester.' And I said 'What would freakin' possess anyone to_wake up_ this early?'"

Gordo hung on his words, which were not forthcoming. Finally, he coached, "And she said…?"

"And she said…what?" Chester asked, picking a piece of lint off his pajamas.

"That's what I'm asking you!" Gordo exclaimed. "What did she say? And where was she going?"

"Oh, dude. I have no freakin' idea. She didn't answer me. She just got on her bike and rode away. You know, come to think of it, she didn't look all that good. Kind of…pale."

Gordo sighed. And then he left, because he knew it would be useless to hang around here any longer. He went outside and unchained his own bike. He checked out the Starbucks, but she wasn't there. He went to the East Library, and the West Library, but with no luck. He even checked the bookstore, where he knew she sometimes liked to peruse the fashion magazines, when she thought nobody was looking. But her bike, so familiar to him, could not be found in the rack outside.

Finally, he visited that little nook behind Manning Hall where he knew she sometimes liked to go and watch the squirrels. But she wasn't there. She wasn't at any of her favorite places! He was starting to feel a little panicky as he parked his bike in the middle of the squirrels and whipped out his cell phone. He began calling everyone he knew that knew Miranda. He called Sarah and Laura, and even, after a deep breath, Chelsea.

Chelsea sounded excessively happy to hear from him. This girl had a little crush on Gordo, which he always found annoying and yet at the same time extremely pleasing. She totally misinterpreted his call, of course, until he clarified, "I just want to know if you've seen Miranda today."

"Oh sure!" Chelsea sang. "This morning. Kind of early, actually. To firm up our plans for the football practice this afternoon. And then we made plans to go out tonight, with Jeffrey Parker. Do you want to come too? I think we're going to try Dehli Deli, that new Indian place on University Drive."

"I…I…no thank you, Chelsea. When was it that you saw Miranda? Where did she say she was going next?"

"She didn't say," Chelsea answered. "But it was a while ago. Hey! Aren't you guys supposed to be studying now? What's up? You didn't…like…have a fight or something, did you?"

"No!" Gordo replied. "Not at all. Nothing like that."

"Then you didn't…like…have a fight with Lizzie, did you?" she asked, hopefully.

"No," Gordo said wearily, and a little ashamed to admit that was the first time he had thought of Lizzie all day. "Lizzie and I are fine. But I just need to know where Miranda is. And…and…did she seem okay?"

"She seemed fine," Chelsea said. "Though now that you mention it…"

"Yes?" Gordo asked expectantly.

"She seemed a little…_too_ fine, maybe, if you know what I mean. All for turning over a new leaf, I think she said, and getting back on track, back to her principles. Something like that."

Gordo felt his heart ache. He knew exactly what she was talking about. His last shred of hope that somehow Miranda might change her mind about wanting to see him, and instead rush into his arms proclaiming her undying love for him…well…dashed. All dashed.

"Hey!" Chelsea said suddenly, brightly. "The football practice is at two o'clock. Want to come?"

"I…uh…football's not really my thing…"

"Oh, we would love to have you join us!" Chelsea continued in that same bright tone. "With Lizzie away, you need to make an effort to hang out with friends more, don't you think? And then you could join us afterwards at Dehli Deli!"

"I…I have to go, Chelsea. Thanks. Thanks a lot." And he hung up.

After that, Gordo went home, his heart wounded. He couldn't do any studying all day. He couldn't think about anything but Miranda, and how much he'd hurt her, and how much he loved her, and how much he wished he could somehow turn back time and undo what had happened between them last night.

Yet, as soon as he thought that, he changed his mind. That night was the best night of his life. He didn't want to change a thing. Well, maybe the stuff at the end, where she pretty much said she never wanted to see him again, but before that, the kissing, and the touching, and the sex…oh, God…the sex….

He lay on the couch in the living room, watching golf, and thinking about the sex. And then somehow, Championship Bowling was on the TV. He glanced at Brianna's old clock on the mantle and noticed that Mickey's hands were in the two o'clock position. He knew Miranda and her friends would be at the football practice now, and he toyed with the idea of going out to the field, even though he knew he couldn't bear to join the group. How could he talk to her, with so many people around? And even if he could, what would he say to her? What would she say to him? Nothing good, he felt sure. He couldn't bear to have his heart broken any more than it already was. But maybe he could ride his bike to the end of the field, and hide behind the bushes, and just _see_ her and _watch_ her.

He gave a little shiver. Nah. That was just way too creepy. Even for him.

And so, he lay there lethargically watching strike after strike, and the occasional spare, and he went back to toying with the idea of whether or not he would give up last night if it meant there might yet be the slightest chance that he and Miranda could still be friends. Might there have been another way to handle this? Maybe he should have broken up with Lizzie first. Then, when he pursued Miranda, he wouldn't be, as she had so poetically put it, "just a guy who would cheat on his girlfriend." She was right. He was a scumbucket, and he hated himself for it.

He should have waited! He should have shown some self-control! He ruined everything! What an idiot! He hated himself. And now he was crying…

But as soon as he started crying, he heard his mother's voice… how many times had she said, "No use crying over spilt milk"? It was stuck in his brain. Geez! For someone with a PhD, his mom did sometimes fall back so heavily on the tried and true clichés.

He wished he could remember some helpful psychological principles his mother or father might tell him about now, to help him get through this. He wouldn't have even minded a few more of those really good clichés. But of course he wasn't going to tell his parents any of this! He wasn't going to tell them, or Tudge, or anyone, and he was especially never going to tell Lizzie! This was going to have to be something he would bear alone, in silence.

As the afternoon droned on, silently, despite the consistent rumbling of pins being crashed to ground, he felt increasingly pathetic, sprawled out on the living room couch. Watching Bowling. But not really watching, because soon, very soon, his eyelids grew heavy, and he fell asleep.

It was not a good sleep, and just about the only thing that could be said in it's favor, was that when he finally awoke, it was to the sweet sound of Miranda's voice in the doorway behind him.


	2. Out the Window

A/N: I forgot to mention in my last A/N that this is a chapter story. I hope nobody thought that first chapter was the end of the story! I have lots and lots more planned. Each chapter will be told from the point of view of a different character, not in "first person," but just in the sense of following them around and finding out what they are thinking. This chapter follows Miranda, and later we'll also follow Lizzie, and perhaps some others too.

Anyway, reviews would be nice. I accept anonymous reviews, so please don't hesitate to say something, no matter how brief. Thanks, and I hope you like the story!

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Watching the football practice managed to take Miranda's mind off her troubles, at least for a short time. But as soon as the practice was over and they were heading back to the car, Chelsea said, "Okay, I guess we'll go to my apartment first, so I can change, and then we'll head right over to your house."

"Why?" Miranda asked, perhaps a bit too defensively. She had spent the entire day doing everything she could to avoid Gordo, and now Chelsea wanted to fling her right back in his face! No, wait, Miranda thought. Maybe Chelsea just wants to fling _herself_ in Gordo's face. There was, after all, that little matter of her hopeless crush.

But before Miranda had a chance to rectify her defensive "Why?", Chelsea answered, "Because we're picking up Jeffrey, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Miranda said, calming down.

"And because you're going to lend me your new sandals. They'll look so great with that dress I bought last week at the mall! And you should change too."

"No, I'm good," Miranda said. "No need to change, in fact, I'll just call Jeffrey Parker now and tell him to get the sandals out of my room, and then I'll call him again when we turn the corner on 8th Avenue, and tell him to come outside and wait for us…"

"Geez! Someone is in quite a rush!" Chelsea commented, rolling her eyes.

"Well…I'm hungry! Let's get this show on the road! Right?"

The truth was, Miranda was not at all hungry. She hadn't eaten all day, but the thought of consuming anything, especially Indian food, put her into a state of gastronomical terror. But it was too late to back out now. They had been planning this outing for days, and even if she did back out, where was she going to go? Home? Where Gordo was? When she was trying so very desperately to avoid him? No, the very best plan at this moment would be to risk the Indian food, then create some reason to hang out with Chelsea at her apartment, stay late, and ask to spend the night there.

That would buy her a little more time to try to figure out how she was going to deal with "The Gordo Problem." Oh yes, Gordo was a problem. Well, not so much Gordo himself, but the whole idea of having to come into contact with him again. How was she going to be able to look at him? Talk to him? This was a nightmare!

But the nightmare was about to come true, because somehow, after going to Chelsea's place for her to change, they were now in the driveway at Miranda's boarding house, and Chelsea was jumping out of the car, approaching the front door.

"Wait!" Miranda cried. "Where are you going? I thought we agreed we were going to wait here for Jeffrey Parker."

"Oh, you know Jeffrey. He's worse than a girl. He said he'd meet us out front, but I'll bet you anything he's still in the shower. Besides, this will give me a chance to go in and say hi to Gordo."

Chelsea was at the door and she turned back to look at Miranda, still sitting in the car. "Are you coming?"

"I doubt Gordo's even home," Miranda said, feeling so peculiar just to _say_ his name. "Look, there are no lights on in the house. He probably went out."

"Dear," Chelsea said patiently. "Lizzie is in Hillridge, and you're here with me, and the library is closed, so it's highly unlikely Gordo has 'gone out' anywhere. Besides, someone's in the living room," Chelsea said persistently. "I can tell through the blinds that the TV is on. Come on, Randa! Are you going to unlock the door, or do I have to knock?"

Miranda sighed and pushed herself out of the car. What the hell! If Gordo was home, he was probably upstairs in his room. He never sat in the living room with the lights off, watching TV. It was probably Chester, smoking weed and watching one of those awful King Fu movies. She reached Chelsea on the front step, put the key in the lock and said, "All right then, you go up to my room to get my shoes, and while you're up there, knock on Jeffrey Parker's door and tell him to get his ass in gear. I'll just be…"

Here was where Miranda stopped short, because she had opened the door some moments ago and there was no Kang Fu on the TV, and no sweet smell in the living room. The Evening News was blaring out its sad song, apparently to no one, until suddenly Gordo sprang up from the other side of the couch---

"Miranda!"

He looked awful. His hair was all disheveled, and adjusting to the darkness of the room, Miranda could plainly see that his eyes were puffy and swollen, as if he had been crying. There was also something of a plaintive cry in the way he had said her name, and it pierced her heart.

All of this was lost on Chelsea, who was simply glad to see the object of her affection. "Gordo!" she exclaimed brightly. "Hi there! What's up, sleepyhead?"

No to be rude, but Gordo could not focus on Chelsea. He could not take his eyes off Miranda, thinking how wonderful it was to see her, and how beautiful she looked. Her eyes tonight looked so big and brown. He tried to deny to himself what he already knew, that her expression was one of absolute nervousness and discomfort.

"Miranda…" he repeated, more quietly.

For a moment, Miranda was at a loss, not knowing what to do or say. She had not expected him, and certainly not like this. And despite the extent of the inner pep talk she had given herself earlier in the day, neither was she prepared for what the mere sight of him and the simple intonation of her own name on his lips was doing to all her self-resolve She had spent hours convincing herself that she was going to be able to handle this moment, that she was not going to let it undo her…and yet that was exactly what was happening. All that stuff about what a louse he was, and how she didn't want anything to do with a louse, how she would just be better to cut him out of her life completely….out the window, all of it.

"Hey!" Chelsea sang suddenly. "I have a great idea! Gordo! Why don't you come with us to Dehli Deli!"

"What?" Gordo said, confused.

"You know! Dehli Deli, that new Indian place---"

"No!" Miranda practically shouted, snapping back into the moment.

"No?" Chelsea wondered.

"No, because…because Gordo hates Indian food," she explained nervously. "He always has. He wouldn't enjoy it. Besides, I'm sure he has lots of studying to do."

"Gordo, do you really---?"

"Yes!" he answered instantly, noting Miranda's reluctance to have him along, and also remembering his promise to her last night to stay away for a long….long while. "I hate Indian food. And I do have to study. But thanks anyway, Chelsea."

"Well then, Gordy," she pouted, "perhaps sometime you could tell me what kind of food you do like, and perhaps you and I could---"

Aaargh! Miranda did not have time for Chelsea's foolish crush right now! "I'm going upstairs to get those shoes---" she began.

"No!" Gordo cried. "I…I….have to talk to you, Miranda. Besides, Chelsea's the one who wants the shoes. Let her get them."

Chelsea looked injured by his remark, but bravely volunteered, "Yes, I want the shoes. I'll go get them. I'll be just a minute. And I'll try to drag Jeffrey out of the shower while I'm at it."

Then Chelsea left. Finally! And Gordo and Miranda were alone together, looking at each other across the dark room, the stock market report droning on in the background. For a moment they could only look at each other, neither thinking of anything to say, as the memories of the night before flooded both their memories. Miranda felt her cheeks burning up in embarrassment. She didn't know which was worse: being physically naked with Gordo last night, or feeling emotionally naked with him at this moment, certain that she could not hide from him how deeply their time together had affected her.

Then, "Ran…" Gordo said quietly. "I know you said you didn't want to see me for a while, but I just have to let you know---"

"No," Miranda said evenly. "I can't hear it. I won't hear it."

"But---"

"But you promised!" she hissed, feeling tears begin to well up behind her nose. "You told me you would give me some time to…to…"

At that moment Jeffrey Parker came bounding down the stairs behind Miranda, saying, "Okay! Dehli Deli! I'm rheady, ready! Where's Chelsea?"

"She…she went upstairs for my shoes…" Miranda murmured.

"Shoes!" he exclaimed. "What is it with girls and shoes, huh, Gordo? Hey! Gordo, why don't you come with us? We're going to Dehli Deli---"

"No thanks," Gordo said simply.

"But I hear it's really good, and I have this coupon for---"

"No thanks," Miranda repeated for Gordo. "He doesn't like Indian food."

"And I have to study," Gordo added.

"Yeah, he has to study," Miranda confirmed.

"But---"

"He has to study," Miranda repeated, glaring at her roommate.

Jeffrey Parker looked from one to the other, noting the quiet and the distance between them. These two had spent the entire summer practically arm in arm, and now, suddenly, something did not feel right. "Hey," he said flatly, "is everything all right with you guys?"

"Why wouldn't everything be all right?" Miranda exploded.

"I don't know!" Jeffrey returned. "You tell me."

"There's nothing to tell, Parker!"

"I didn't say there was. I just said it seems like….geez! Edgy much, Miranda?"

Miranda bit her lip, realizing how much more of a disaster this could be if Jeffrey Parker should begin to figure anything out. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I guess I _am _a little edgy. I mean, next week is finals week, right?"

"Yeah," Jeffrey agreed, "and add on top of that, the 'time of the month'…?"

"Oh, how conveniently sexist of you," chided Chelsea, coming down the stairs, carrying Miranda's new sandals. "If a guy gets pissed about something, he's asserting himself. If a woman gets pissed, she's a bitch with PMS."

Before Jeffrey Parker could defend himself, Miranda jumped in, "No. He's right. I'm due in a few days." Saying this, she tried very hard not to look at Gordo.

"Well, you may have PMS," Chelsea comforted, putting her arm around Miranda. "But you're not a bitch, dear."

"Thank you, Chelsea," Miranda said, hugging her friend. "Now guys, do you think we can get out of here? I'm starving!" she lied.

"Sure, let's go!" Jeffrey exclaimed, holding the door open for the ladies. "See you later, Gordo!"

"Yes, see you later, Gordo!" Chelsea sang. "We'll let you know what it's like, and maybe next time…"

Neither Gordo not Miranda bothered to repeat that Gordo did not like Indian food. They just let Chelsea babble on as she walked through the door, throwing back her head as she continued talking to Gordo, who was not listening to her. Miranda brought up the rear, and locked the door as they left. But before she did, she could not help but take one last look at Gordo, standing utterly alone in the dark living room, with those sad puffy eyes and a Kleenex commercial on the TV behind him.


	3. Neither Here Nor There

Several days went by, almost a week, and nothing changed. Gordo found himself grateful for the fact that he had finals to study for, since, with his mind so distracted, he could sometimes go an entire hour without grieving Miranda's apparent hatred of him. However, during those moments when his studies could not distract him, usually in the silence of his room in the middle of the night, he tended to mull over the word "hatred," spiraling himself deeper and deeper into his pit of despair.

Did Miranda hate him? It certainly seemed so. She would not talk to him, and could not even bear to be in the same room as him. She was spending far, far more time away from the house than she usually did. And if, by chance, they did pass each other in hallway or the kitchen, she would give him an angry glare before darting away. She was not actively saying or doing anything mean-spirited to him, but her simple absence and silence, as well as that angry glare, was enough to convince him that they had crossed a line from which there could be no return.

During the first part of the week, their other roommates were still present in the house. On Tuesday, though, Brittany took her last final and disappeared for a brief visit home. A day later, Jeffrey Parker did the same. This left only Chester, and as everybody knew, Chester was usually so stoned he had no idea what was going on around him. For all intents and purposes, Gordo felt as if he and Miranda were alone in the house. To make matters worse, Thursday morning he took his last final, so he now had nothing whatsoever to keep his mind occupied. Thursday was a particularly bad day for him, and midnight found him in the dark upstairs hallway, gently knocking on Miranda's bedroom door and calling her name.

Of course she did not answer. After several knocks and pathetic bleats of "Miranda…Ran…" he tried the doorknob, but of course it was locked. Then, he swore he could hear her turning on her bed, and feel her hatred towards him permeating through the door.

He banged his head against the door several times, mumbling, "Ran…Ran…"

Suddenly the door at the other end of the hall opened and Chester emerged, followed by a cloud of smoke. He looked at Gordo, bleary-eyed, took only a moment to sum up the situation, then proclaimed, "Dude!"

"Shut up, Chester," Gordo snapped, then returned to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Yes, that was a low point. He stood in his dark bedroom, his heart bouncing around in his chest, wondering how much Chester had understood, how much he would remember, and what he might say to anyone…especially to Lizzie.

Lizzie! He hadn't given her a serious thought in so long, and he was flooded with guilt thinking about her now. He didn't want her to hear about his midnight vigil at Miranda's door from someone like Chester. In an instant, it all seemed to clear. He had to break up with Lizzie. It wasn't fair for him to continue dating her and sleeping with her, when he felt this way about Miranda. Sure, Miranda had said it would make no difference to her at all if he broke up with Lizzie, it wasn't going to make her feel any better about him. But at least he might feel better about himself.

So the next day he spent most of his time thinking about how he was going to break up with Lizzie. Should he call her and do it over the phone? Should he find a way to get back to Hillridge and tell her as soon as possible? Or maybe he should just wait until she got back into town.

Lizzie did not have a definite date of return. The last time he had spoken with her, she said her parents wanted her to stay at least one more weekend, since her cousin Heather was coming in for a visit. Therefore, he did not expect Lizzie till at least Monday. That gave him a few more days to work out exactly how he planned to break up with her, and to figure out what to do afterwards. After all, how could he go on living in this house with both Lizzie and Miranda, when he had just broken up with one, and the other wanted absolutely nothing to do with him? Surely this meant he would need to move.

His plan was to spend Saturday looking for a new place. But before he could begin to set this plan in motion, he had to get through Friday night. That plan was to spend the evening alone in his room, but when he got back to the house late Friday afternoon, prepared for a full evening of moping, he found a surprise. Miranda was sitting on the living room couch, nervously tapping her foot, waiting for him.

He couldn't believe it! Miranda was waiting for him. It was obvious by the look in her eyes that she was there for no other purpose than to see him. And then, immediately verifying his suspicions, she announced, "Gordo, we need to talk."

Gordo hurried over to the couch and sat down beside her, but she immediately scooted back a few inches away from him. "Don't get any ideas," Miranda warned. "This is not a good thing. Not a good thing at all. Lizzie is coming back into town."

"When?"

"She called about an hour ago. She's on the road already, she could be here at any moment."

"But…but…her cousin Heather…"

"Gordo, will you focus!" Miranda screeched. "I don't why you're talking about Heather, but that's not the issue now, is it? She's on her way, she could be here at any moment, and to make matters worse, she wants us all to get together and go out for dinner tonight."

"Well…good!" Gordo exclaimed, before he had a chance to really think this through.

Miranda slapped him across the shoulder. "Are you insane? No, it's not good. It's a disaster! We can't possibly all go out together. I can barely stand to be in the same room with you, and I don't know how in the world I'm going to be able to look Lizzie in the eye after what happened between you and me. She'll _know._I'm certain of it. I'm a terrible liar. I just can't lie to her. She's my best friend. How could I have done that to my best friend? She's going to hate me, as much as I hate myself right now."

Miranda stopped and took a deep breath, then immediately went on, shakily. "I thought I would be okay if only…if only I had some time to think this all through, to figure out what to do. And I figured out this much so far: I have to get out of this house. I have to move out. I talked to my friend Kristin. Her roommate will be leaving just before the Fall term begins. I'm going to move in there, but I can't go for another two weeks. I was hoping Lizzie would stay in Hillridge another two weeks, so I could be gone by the time she got back. It would just be so…so much easier to deal with her, to avoid her, if I'm not living in the same house. I figured I could just fade away, you know? Quietly…"

"No. No. No," Gordo said. "No, Miranda, I won't let you do it. You and Lizzie have been friends forever. I'm not going to let you ruin that."

"Gordo, it's already ruined."

"You're not moving out," he insisted. "I'm the one that's going to leave. I'm going to break up with Lizzie, and then I'm going to move—"  
"Don't you dare!" Miranda sobbed. "Don't you dare, Gordo! I could never live with myself if I had anything at all to do with you and Lizzie breaking up. I would never be able to live with that guilt! Gordo! I'm begging you. Don't do that to me. Please don't do that."

"But it's not about you," he said desperately, reaching out for her hand, but she pulled it away. He went on miserably, "It's about me and Lizzie. You knew even before…even before what happened…that it just isn't so good between me and Lizzie anymore. You know I was thinking of breaking up with her anyway."

"I'm not going out with you," she reminded, wiping tears from her eyes. "I'm not ever going out with you, Gordo."

"I know that," he said dejectedly. "But you're not listening to me, Ran. I just said: it's not about you. It's about me and Lizzie. It's not happening anymore for us. I have to break up with her, and it has nothing to do with you."

That wasn't _exactly_ true, but it seemed to calm Miranda down, at least a little, at least to the point where she stopped crying long enough to say, "Well, if you have to break up with Lizzie, then do what you have to do. But I don't want to be any part of it. And Lizzie must never…_ever_…know what happened. You have to promise me, Gordo, that you will _never_ ever tell her what happened between us."

"I promise, Miranda. I swear," Gordo said.

"If you break up with her, that's going to be hard enough," she sniffed. "And if I just sort of…move away, and disappear out of her life…well, that may not be easy for her either. But if she knew…if she _knew_…"

"She'll never know," Gordo said. "I promise."

"Cos it's not about you and me anymore, Gordo, you realize that, right? It's not about us, it's about Lizzie. She hasn't done anything wrong in all this, and she's the one that's going to be the most hurt."

"I don't want to hurt Lizzie," Gordo said.

"I don't want to either," Miranda echoed. "I'm glad we're in agreement, at least about this much. As for who's moving out and when, we'll have to figure that out some other time. But not now. Because right now, we have something else to deal with. We've got to figure out what in the world we're going to do about_tonight._ Lizzie could be here at any moment and—"

And then Lizzie was there, clunking through the door with three suitcases, which she dropped in the foyer, catching her breath. Miranda looked at her, startled, then quickly looked away, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Gordo looked away from Miranda, and directly at Lizzie, and all at once his head began spinning.

Lizzie. Yes, it was Lizzie. And she looked…she looked…_so good. _ Her long blonde hair was falling around her face, and her skin was nicely tanned, and looking so smooth, and her cutoffs were hugging her hips and showing just a hint of her smooth, tan belly…

"Lizzie…" Gordo said in wonder. The wonder was there because he wondered how it was that he had ever dreamed of breaking up with her. She was beautiful, she was perfect, and he was an idiot to ever think of anyone else but her.

"I'm home!" Lizzie sang, grinning wildly. Then she dropped the last bag, giggled a little and bounded into Gordo's arms, kissing him madly, deeply, passionately.


	4. Onions

**This is a short chapter, but only because I am setting up for the next chapter, which will be...well, it will be a lot more detailed, and some of the reason why I continue to leave this story in the M section. So enjoy this chapter and get ready for what comes next!  
**

Lizzie was so glad to be home again. It felt good to be in Gordo's arms, kissing him all over, letting him know how very much she had missed him. She really hadn't been the best girlfriend lately, had she? But all that was about to change.

"Oh, sweetie…sweetie…" she cooed between kisses, taking his face in her hands for even more intense smooches. "I missed you so so much, my sweetie…"

"Lizzie…" he managed, sounding dazed. "I…you…what are you doing here?"

"Gordo! I live here!"

"I mean, didn't you say…I thought you said…your cousin…uh…?" but he couldn't remember her cousin's name, he couldn't remember any other girl's name at this moment. Lizzie was making him dizzy with her sudden appearance, her kisses, her perfume.

"Oh, Heather. Yeah. No biggie. I can see her anytime, but you…_you_…I missed you so much, Gordo. Oh, hi, Miranda!"

Lizzie had allowed her attention to be diverted only long enough to see that Miranda was standing right there, staring at them, also looking somewhat dazed.

"Hey…" was all Miranda could say.

Lizzie looked at her best friend, and a troubled thought passed through her mind. "Hey," Lizzie returned. "You alright, Randa?"

"I…well…"

"You look a little funny," Lizzie noted, her concern growing as she finally stopped kissing Gordo, but did not take her arms from around him. "You look like…Hey! You haven't been crying have you?"

"What!" Miranda exclaimed. "Me? Crying? No. Why?"

"Well, your eyes…"

"Oh, that! Well…onions, you know. I was just in the kitchen cutting onions and—"

"Onions! Oh, no! You aren't cooking dinner, are you? I want to go out to dinner with you and Gordo! I thought I told you that over the phone. Didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," Miranda said, "but, well, as a matter of fact…hmmm….I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do that tonight, Lizzie."

"Why not?" Lizzie asked.

"Well, I…you know…I just don't feel really well, at the moment. Period, you know. Big time cramps…headache…the whole thing."

"Oh, poor baby!" Lizzie commiserated. "Can I do anything for you? Do you want a cup of tea? How about Gordo and I go down to the Mall and get you some of those huge chocolate chip cookies?"

"Thanks, Lizzie. Thanks so much. But really, I think all I need…all I need is to go upstairs and take a nap. I think I'm gonna go upstairs and take a nap."

"Well…okay…" Lizzie said, uncertainly. "But if you change your mind, later, if you feel better, if you want to come out with me and Gordo…"

Miranda was already walking out the room, and Lizzie could barely hear her mumbled reply as she bounded up the stairs.

Both Lizzie and Gordo watched Miranda go, then Lizzie turned to Gordo and huffed, "Huh!"

Gordo looked at his girlfriend. He couldn't believe how gorgeous she was. "Huh…what?" he asked absently.

"Miranda. Something's wrong."

Gordo just stared at her blankly.

"Gordo!" she said suddenly, an idea striking her. "What were you and Randa talking about just now, before I came in?"

"Nothing!" Gordo exclaimed, feeling the panic rise up inside him as he remembered precisely what he and Miranda had been talking about.

"Nothing?" Lizzie questioned. "Come on! You had to be talking about_something._ Why was she crying?"

"She wasn't crying, I didn't make her cry," Gordo defended himself. "It was the onions. You heard her. The onions."

"I'm not buying that," Lizzie said, shaking her head.

"Well then, you heard her. It's her period. She just isn't feeling good. She said she had a really bad migraine."

Lizzie nodded knowingly. "Yeah. That happens to her sometimes."

Gordo breathed a little sigh of relief. Maybe Lizzie would drop this topic now, get her mind off Miranda, and what could be making her cry. He had to do something, anything, to get her mind off Miranda. So he did the first thing he could think of. He grabbed her and kissed her.

She giggled and smiled through his kisses, then teased, "So, Mr. Gordon. You really do still love me, don't you?"

"Of course I do, Lizzie! Why wouldn't I?"

"And you missed me?"

"Wildly," he said, hoping she could not hear in his voice how many days had passed when he had barely thought of her at all. But he followed this lie with another statement, this one the absolutely truth at the moment, and passionately proclaimed. "Lizzie," he said earnestly. " I am so…_so_…glad that you're back."

Lizzie snuggled, rubbing her nose against his. "And now that I'm back," she whispered into his ear, "you know, of course, what we can do in person that we could never do over the phone?"

Gordo knew. And he knew, all too well, that tone in her voice. It had been a long, long time since he had heard this tone, but he began to tingle as he thought of where this conversation must be going.

"Of course," he answered, his voice steady, though his heart was pounding. "Of course I know."

"Where is everybody?" Lizzie asked quickly, taking his hand and beginning to lead him up the stairs.

"All gone," he said. "Even Chester's out, I think, a concert or something."

"Oh, good!" Lizzie squealed, as she began to bound up the stairs. "Then I guess we won't have to worry quite so much about being…_quiet_."

A moment later, they were in the upstairs hallway, and Gordo's heart was beating so fast you would think he had just run a marathon rather than taken a single flight of stairs. He stopped a moment to catch his breath, and as they stood there, hand in hand, Lizzie looked down the silent hallway at all the closed doors, then turned to Gordo and whispered, "Well, except for Miranda, of course. I guess we _should_ make an effort to be quiet, for Miranda's sake. Especially if she's not feeling good. I'm sure she doesn't want to hear us…you know…"

A sudden pang of melancholy shot through Gordo's racing heart. "Yeah," he agreed, thinking sadly of Miranda, his voice tinged by more than just a hint of guilt.

"Well, come on then," Lizzie smiled, winking at him as she pulled him down the hallway and into her bedroom.

They each had their own bedroom, though for sex they usually chose Gordo's room, as he had the better sound system and CD collection. Sometimes, though, Lizzie would insist on her room, and when she did, it usually meant she had something special planned. In her own room she felt free to control the lighting, the temperature and occasionally what they might be watching on the TV. She also had access to various outfits, which Gordo found most appealing, and on rare occasions, she would surprise him with…props, and toys, which he found extremely exciting.

As she closed the door and locked them in her room now, his head began to rush with the sudden knowledge that this was going to one of those wild nights.


	5. Slave Boy

Sure enough, Lizzie immediately pushed him down on to the bed, straddled him, and began tearing off his clothes. He didn't even have time to think about what was happening, but instinct kicked in and he reached for her top, trying to pull it over her head, but she grabbed his hands, looked him square in the eye and said "No."

"No?" he questioned.

"That's right, mister. You heard me. No."

"But…but, Lizzie…"

"Gordo, do you love me?"

"Lizzie," he breathed, "you know I love you."

"Do you trust me?"

At the mention of the word "trust" his heart fluttered, but then he answered, "You know I trust you."

"Well…" Lizzie proposed as she continued unzipping his pants, "do you love me and trust me enough to…to be my…Slave Boy?"

Gordo laughed a little. "Your what?"

"My Slave Boy," she repeated, pulling his shirt over his head as she tried to hold back a grin.

Bare-chested, Gordo lay back on the bed and laughed again. "Sure," he agreed. "But what exactly is a 'Slave Boy'? And why now? What brought this on?"

"A Slave Boy," Lizzie informed, "is a boy who is totally devoted to me, _me_, and only me. He's my boy who will do whatever I tell him to do, and not pay any attention whatsoever to any other women at all."

Gordo's heart now felt heavy, as his thoughts were inevitably drawn to Miranda. "Okay," he agreed, seriously. "But…but why now?"

He really needed to know the answer to this question. A part of him wondered if it was possible that somehow Lizzie already knew about him and Miranda. Had she called the house one day and spoken to Chester? Had Chester told her how he had found her boyfriend standing outside Miranda's bedroom door in the middle of the night, bleating like a sheep? Did Lizzie already _know_?

But Lizzie did not know. She pulled down his pants and said, "Because things have been….strange between us lately, Gordo. Not as good as they once were. And being away from you for so long really made me realize…I mean _really_ realize…how much you mean to me, how much I love you, and how much I want everything between us to be good again. No, not just good. More than good. I want us to be totally devoted to each other, totally and hopelessly in love with each other and wrapped up in each other, and only with each other. Do you want that too, Gordo?"

By this time Gordo was laying on Lizzie's bed completely naked, and she was leaning over him with the view down her tank top swaying before his eyes and the ends of her hair tickling his chest. He shivered involuntarily, closed his eyes and said with certainty, "Yes, Lizzie. That's what I want. More than anything, that's what I want."

"Good," she smiled, gently laying her lips against his. "Then we need to make a pact."

"We do?"

"Yes," Lizzie whispered in his ear. "By becoming each other's slave. And since obviously we can't both be the slave at the same time, you'll be my slave first, and later, sometime tonight, or tomorrow, or whenever, I'll be your slave."

"You will?"

"Of course, sweetie," Lizzie purred as she began to move down his body. "And when I'm your slave, you can do anything you want to with me…to me..." She paused, then repeated, in a low, sexy voice, "And I do mean…_anything…_"

With this, Gordo felt the prickling sensation that was attacking his entire body suddenly rush to his fully exposed privates, making his already hard cock stand up even straighter, like a soldier saluting a superior officer.

Gulping, Gordo asked, "And I suppose that means when I'm your slave, you can do…anything…you want…to me…"

"Mmm-hmm," Lizzie confirmed with a slow nod.

Gordo felt like he was about to explode. Lizzie had been playful before, but never like this. It was exciting, but also a little scary. "And…and…" he managed to say, "what…what am I supposed to do, as your slave?"

"As my Slave Boy," Lizzie informed, jumping off the bed, "your job is extremely easy. You don't have to do anything, baby…unless I tell you to. And whatever it is that I decide to do to you, you just have to lie there and…and _take it._"

With those words, Lizzie grabbed her boyfriend's hips, twisted his body to the right and landed a single smarting spank on his unprotected butt cheek.

"Lizzie!" he exclaimed in shock.

Lizzie came immediately to his face, holding his cheeks in her hands and whispered, in no uncertain terms, "My first rule, Slave Boy, is that I don't want to hear anything from you. Not one peep. You understand?"

Gordo only nodded. He felt he deserved that slap. He felt he deserved a lot more. He was ready for anything she might dish out, but at the moment he couldn't remember why he felt this way. He couldn't concentrate on anything other than Lizzie, this new, demanding and completely in control version of his longtime girlfriend.

And so, his eyes followed her silently as she sauntered away from the side of the bed, walking around her room, observing everything, picking up items from the dresser, the shelves, considering, then returning object after object, as if she was looking for something in particular. _What was she looking for? What were her intentions?_ Gordo squirmed uncomfortably on the bed.

Lizzie shot him a stare. "Lay still, Slave Boy," she demanded. "No talking, no moving. Not until I'm ready for you."

This time, Gordo did not even nod. He simply lay there in absolute obedience, feeling nothing but the beating of his heart and the throbbing of his aching cock.

Lizzie teased him like this a while longer, apparently enjoying having him in this position, as she opened drawers, peeked inside, glanced at him with raised eyebrows, sometimes squealing lightly, sometimes giggling. It seemed unfair to Gordo that he was laying here completely naked and exposed, unable to speak or move, when Lizzie still had on all her clothes and was clearly and freely planning how to torment him. The longer she teased him, making him wait, the more he began to question his agreement to this arrangement. Maybe he was wrong to trust her. Maybe she _did_ know…_did_ know… whatever it was that she was not supposed to know, and maybe she was planning… planning…

Before very long, Gordo had worked himself up into a frenzy. She _knew. _Surely she knew, and now she was going to punish him. That tiny slap had only been a precursor, a warning. What else might she do to him? Maybe he needed to get up, get up right now and—

"Hey!" Lizzie exclaimed, seeing Gordo up on his elbows. She came to the side of the bed and pushed him back down. "I said no moving, Slave."

"But, Lizzie—"

"And no talking! What part don't you understand? Do I need to spank you some more? Do I need to do _worse_? How this goes down is completely up to you, Slave. How do you want it?"

"I…I…" he babbled.

"You want to please me, don't you?" Lizzie said with a sweet smile, leaning over him, brushing her tank top against his naked chest.

Gordo nodded. Yes, he did want to please her.

"Good," Lizzie hummed, running something smooth against his neck. He hadn't seen what it was, but it felt so soft, so cool against his skin. "Now," Lizzie instructed, "Arms up, Slave."

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"Arms up! Arms up! Over your head. That's right, like that. Wrists together, against the headboard….good Slave…"

Now Gordo knew what the soft cool sensation had been. It was a scarf Lizzie had taken from the drawer, and she was now wrapping it around his wrists, and around the metal bars of her headboard, tying him up so that any thought of escape was now out of the question.

"Lizzie…" he said uncertainly.

With her knot secured, she ran her hands down his body, twisting him once more for another spank, this one even sharper than before.

"Hey!" Gordo exclaimed, unable to help himself from crying out.

"Quiet!" she warned sternly, and there was something about her tone of voice that made him obey her. It was that tone that also kept him from objecting as he saw her walk to the dresser, pull out another scarf and approach his ankles. He did not even struggle as she tied his legs together as securely as his wrists.

And then she spanked him again.

Gordo didn't know why, but he found these spanks so humiliating, even though he fully believed he deserved them. He also found it humiliating to be tied up, so totally under her control. Each time she spanked him, he cried out, and each time he cried out she again demanded his silence. He was no longer enjoying this in the way he usually did when he and Lizzie came into her room and locked the door, but strangely, it seemed to be fulfilling some need. He knew he deserved this and much more, though at the moment he honestly could not remember why. He could only concentrate upon the sharp stings on his butt cheeks, and Lizzie's hissed demands that he be quiet.

He soon began to understand that the more he cried out, the harder she spanked, and it was only when he struggled to control his outbursts that she began to ease off. So he stopped yelling "Hey!"then he stopped yelling anything at all. It was only by clenching his teeth together that he was he finally able to keep from even the tiniest whimper. Soon, her spanks became so gentle, they were nothing more than lovepats. And then, finally, she was rubbing his hot butt cheeks with the smooth palms of her hands. "Good Slave Boy," she praised him for finally falling into obedience to her wishes.

Catching his breath, Gordo dared to speak. "Lizzie," he began meekly. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes, you may," Lizzie granted.

"I was just wondering…I mean…_why?_ Why did you do that?"

Lizzie continued to rub his ass, contemplating her answer. At last she stood up, then leaned over him, her face so close to his as she whispered, "Because I want to make sure you understand how the game is played."

"What do you mean?" Gordo asked, dumbfounded.

"I mean," she explained plainly, "I want to make sure that you understand that when I'm your slave, if you wanted to spank me, that would be…that would be…absolutely alright."

Gordo looked at her in surprise. "You want me to spank you? Like that?"

She looked at him for a while, not answering, and slowly he saw her expression change. "This is not about me," she said suddenly. "This is about you, Gordo. Today it's all about you."

"What about me?" he asked, once again fearing she was going to pop out with the announcement that she knew all about…all about…_oh, damn!_ What was it he was so afraid she was going to find out?

But he didn't have time to think it through, because Lizzie was now arranging his body on the bed, checking the scarf binding his wrists to the headboard, then lightly running her fingertips all the way down his chest, across his stomach, ending at the inside of his thigh. After all those hefty blows to his behind, this light touch was absolutely electrifying, and he heard himself moaning in delight.

"This is about you being my Slave Boy," Lizzie reminded, "and about you being willing to do anything I ask. And all I've asked you to do so far is to remain quiet, and you don't seem to be able to do that, do you? At every turn you've got so many questions, so many words from you, Gordo, all the time! And if you're not talking, then you're moaning, and groaning, and whimpering, and making every kind of noise I have so pointedly asked you not to make."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'll be quiet. I'll be good. I promise."

"I hope so. Because if you're not, I might have to give you another spanking. You wouldn't want that, Slave Boy, would you?"

Wiser now, Gordo only shook his head in reply, but he shook it vigorously. Lizzie seemed to understand how the spanking had affected him, and she knew she could use it against him, and they both knew that with him tied up like this, there was little he could do about it. He was at her mercy.

She stared at him for a while, looking up and down his body, smiling like the Mona Lisa, so that Gordo was not entirely sure what she must be thinking, what she must be planning next. He so much wanted to question her, but he didn't dare. He simply waited in antagonizing anticipation.

As Lizzie kept gazing at him, she was keenly aware of what he was going through. She ran her fingertips over his thigh again, this time trailing up to his stomach, but very pointedly avoiding his fully engorged cock, and she saw him wincing, felt him flinching, struggling not to make a single noise. This was fun! But at the same time, she could not bear to see him suffering like this, waiting and wondering. So at last, she caved, and said, very, very softly, "Gordo, honey, you've been so good….a very good Slave Boy. Not as good as you could have been, but you've paid for that, haven't you?"

Gordo nodded, silently.

"And I believe you've learned your lesson, and from this point forward, you're going to be able to obey me, won't you?"

Gordo nodded again.

"So I'm not going to tease you anymore," Lizzie said, and as she did, Gordo did his best not to make any audible sound as he let out a deep breath.

"And I'm not going to spank you anymore," she added.

He thanked her with his eyes.

"I'm only going to do one more thing for you, before I set you free," Lizzie promised. "I'm going to do something that I know you absolutely _love,_ something that you enjoy so…so much. Can you think what that is?"

Several ideas ran through Gordo's mind, each one more exciting than the next, but he dare not verbalized any of them. He just kept looking at her, urging her to go on.

Seeing him at last silent and subdued, Lizzie smiled, not a Mona Lisa smile, but a full, sexy Lizzie smile. And then she announced, in her sexiest Lizzie voice, "I am going to give you…a blowjob. The best blowjob of your life. Right now, I am going to…suck all the life out of that huge, bulging cock of yours."

Gordo nodded furiously, in thankful and complete agreement. He felt his cock perking up even more, reaching up for Lizzie's luscious lips. Oh, this was going to be good!

Lizzie jumped onto the bed, positioning herself beside him. She was still fully clothed, and he was still completely naked, but he didn't care. He was going to get a blowjob! The blowjob of his life! From his smokin' hot girlfriend who was _so_ into him, and wanted nothing more than to send him into realms of unbearable pleasure. He was ready. He was so…so ready…

And then, just before she came down on him, Lizzie said, "And you remember the rules, right, Gordo?"

Gordo nodded. He remembered. No talking, no moaning, no noise at all. It was going to be difficult, but he could do it. He would do it. He didn't need to be told again.

But Lizzie did tell him again. "No noise," she reminded. "I know how you like to…express yourself when you're feeling…you know…but you can't do it this time. Not at all. One, because you're my Slave Boy, and that's my rule. And two, because remember: Miranda is right down the hall, and we don't want her to hear us."

At the mention of Miranda's name, Gordo was too stunned to even nod his agreement. He just stared at Lizzie blankly, seeing her, but also seeing…Miranda. Remembering Miranda…in bed with him that night, the feel of her skin, the sound of her moans, the silkiness of her hair against his hands…

Yes. That was what he had been unable to remember all this time, ever since Lizzie had brought him up to her room. The moist smoothness of her lips that night, her tongue hungrily devouring his mouth…

And now Lizzie's tongue was licking the taut hot skin of his impossibly erect cock, but Gordo found his thoughts were all focused upon Miranda, and the incongruity of it all made him want to jump up and scream. He contained his scream, but his body involuntarily jolted upon the bed, which caused Lizzie to laugh and hold him down as she now swallowed him whole, sucking and sucking, sucking all the life out of that huge bulging cock of his, as she had so eloquently put it.

Yes, this was the blowjob of his life. This was a blowjob like none he had ever had before. One woman so fully engaging his body, another completely monopolizing his every thought. Of course he had imagined, and on more than one occasion, what it would be like to have his cock deep inside Miranda's mouth. It had been his main fantasy these past three nights. And now it was coming true…

Only it wasn't. It was Lizzie. No, it was Miranda. No, it was Lizzie. He was out of his mind, struggling to hold back that which could not be held back. He clenched his teeth, he squeezed his eyes so hard, tears came out. He couldn't bear this. He pulled up his bound legs, trying to push Lizzie off him, but she reached out and held him down, and he was too weak to struggle any further.

"No," he whimpered. "No. Stop. Please…stop…"

But Lizzie did not stop, because Gordo did not say the "safe word" they had established long ago, because frankly, he had never used the safe word, and if he used it now, she would want to know why, and he could not explain why. She was only doing what she thought he wanted, and he _did _want it, but not like this….

And so, finally, with all powers of resistance completely depleted, with every last option gone, Gordo gave up with a mighty cry of "Gaaah!!" and let Miranda suck the life out of his cock.

He heard his own "Gaaah!!" and he heard the "Errrrr…" and "Uuuh…" that followed, along with several other grunts and groans for which there are no alphabetical equivalent. Each articulation grew louder, and more intense, until surely they must be echoing in the hallway, down the stairs, and out into the front yard. But Gordo didn't care who heard him…except for Miranda. He did not want her to hear him like this, when he was here with Lizzie, doing this with Lizzie, and yet it soon became absolutely impossible for him to stop.

He didn't even care that Lizzie was slapping his butt, apparently as a punishment for his noisy disobedience, as she continued to furiously suck. At first, he didn't care, but then, as his head cleared a bit, the thought formed that if these slaps were a punishment, then he deserved to be punished, and he began to welcome her slaps, her spanks, even enjoy them. He enjoyed the sucking, he enjoyed the spanking, and he continued howling in abandonment, his only fear that he might let "Oh, Ran!" slip out his mouth, instead of "Oh, Lizzie!"

But somehow, thankfully, that disaster was averted, and at the very last, he announced, "I'm coming! Oh God, I'm coming! I'm coming!" and then he came, deep inside his girlfriend's mouth, though on some level he was not quite sure if that girlfriend was Lizzie or Miranda. His final groan was an impressive "Aaaarg!" that ended in a shaking, shivering whimper.

As his head cleared, Gordo slowly became aware of his surroundings again. First, he noticed that he was in Lizzie's room, and then he noticed Lizzie, popping up beside him, grinning and snuggling him, asking, "Was that good, sweetie?"

Gordo looked at her and could not answer. He could not possibly describe to her, or to anyone, what that had been like, the mixture of pain and pleasure, guilt and goodness. He took a few deep breaths, laughing a little, and then…then…

He heard the music. It was the Dixie Chicks, which was Miranda's music, and it was coming from down the hall, from the general vicinity of Miranda's bedroom. And it was of a significant volume.

Lizzie looked at Gordo, blushing deeply. "Oops," she said with a quick apologetic smile. "I guess Miranda did hear us…_you_…after all…"


	6. MYOB

**Hey, I know by my stats that people are reading this, so why no reviews? Is it not good? Is it not fun? Remember, I accept anonymous reviews. Even if you have something bad to say, I still want to hear it. So please review, or I might become really discouraged and stop writing altogether. I'm not threatening, I'm just saying that if you like this story well enough to read it at all, you probably DON'T want to miss what's coming up in future chapters. A little interaction, please! And I hope you like this chapter. BGM**

"Me?" Gordo questioned.

Lizzie punched him playfully. "Yes, you! Of course you! It wasn't _me_howling like a banshee!"

"Lizzie, I wasn't---"

"Shhh!" Lizzie commanded suddenly.

They both "shhh"ed and listened. The music had stopped, and did not start up again.

After a moment, Lizzie fell back on the bed and groaned, "Oh, shit! She_definitely_ heard us. She was definitely trying to block us out. Gordo! Why do you have to be so goddamn _vocal_ all the time? That was probably so upsetting for poor Miranda, having to hear you like that, making all that noise. I mean, it's bad enough for anyone to have to hear something like that, but especially for Miranda—"

"Why?" Gordo questioned, his alarm growing. "Why would it be bad for Miranda?" Once again he wondered: did Lizzie _know_ something?

But Lizzie relieved those fears by saying instantly, "Well, you know how Miranda is, such a goody two-shoes, 'saving herself' for Prince Charming. She doesn't know a whole lot about sex. It's got to be upsetting for her to hear other people doing it."

Gordo knew it must be, and he wondered how difficult it really had been for Miranda to hear what she just heard, knowing that it was _him. _Did it bring back memories of _that night_? What kinds of memories? Good or bad? How was she feeling right now? Nostalgic and melancholy…or thoroughly disgusted?

Gordo looked across at Lizzie, lying with her leg draped over him, her fingertips lightly massaging his chest. He could sense the floral overtones of her perfume. And he knew it was absolutely wrong for him to be thinking of Miranda at a time like this.

"Hey," he said, gently. "Let's not talk about Miranda anymore, okay? Let's talk about us. Let's talk about—"

"Why don't you want to talk about Miranda?" Lizzie interrupted. "Isn't she your friend? Don't you _care_ about her?"

"Of course I care!" Gordo answered frantically. "I mean, as a friend, of course I care. Are you accusing me of being heartless? I'm not heartless."

"Well, Miranda's got a problem, and I think we should help her."

"Lizzie," Gordo sighed. "That's very sweet of you to want to help your friend, but I don't think it's really our place to—"

"We need to find her a boyfriend," Lizzie announced.

Gordo sighed again. He knew that was where this was going, because Lizzie had gotten stuck on this theme before, and that was why he had tried to cut her off at the pass. To no avail. She was up on her elbow, grinning down at him, proclaiming, "And I have just the guy for her."

Gordo looked back at her, now very puzzled, wondering what this was about. It was a relief that she did not suspect him of foul play, but obviously the wheels were spinning in her pretty little blonde head.

"You know Ethan Craft—" Lizzie began.

Now Gordo got up on his elbows, laughing, "Oh, no, no, no, no! Lizzie! How in the world could you possibly---"

"No, listen!" Lizzie insisted. "I've thought this through and it makes a lot of sense. Really."

"Really?" Gordo repeated. "Are we talking about the _same_ Ethan Craft? Crafty Craft, the womanizing player, the party boy who fucks first and asks names later? Charter member of the Condom of the Month Club?"

Lizzie smacked him again. "You think you know Ethan so well, but you really don't. He has a sweet and sensitive side, too. Well…I mean…that's what I've _heard._ Anyway, even if what you say is true, that's what makes it so perfect. Someone like Ethan would be…well, there would be no awkwardness about, you know, getting started. And it could be just the thing for Miranda, to have someone experienced, to guide her along, to break the ice."

"Now wait, wait," Gordo said. "Let me see if I've got this straight. You want to encourage your very best friend, who has such high ideals about human relationships, to throw it all away for one brief encounter of meaningless sex with someone who will use her, then toss her aside?"

"No," Lizzie said. "I don't want her to throw away her high ideals, but she does need to tone them down a bit, don't you think? If Miranda could just tone down this Prince Charming Complex---and Ethan would be just the guy to get her past that, you have to admit---she could start being a little more relaxed in her standards, and then she could find someone…someone _real_ that would be so good for her."

Lizzie repositioned herself, then went on, getting really excited by this train of thought. "Miranda is so worried about being 'spoiled,' but if she could get past that, she might find a lot of guys that are good guys, even great guys, even though they're not exactly Prince Charming. And really, this whole idea of Prince Charming riding up on his white horse…. we both know that's not going to happen, right? There are no Prince Charmings in the real world. Well, except for you, sweetie. But the chances of Miranda finding someone as wonderful and adorable as you…"

"Lizzie, there are plenty of guys out there as wonderful and adorable as me," Gordo said uncomfortably. "Miranda will find one. She doesn't need to settle for a scum like Ethan Craft."

"Yeah, but that's just it!" Lizzie exclaimed suddenly, bouncing up on to her knees. "It wouldn't be 'settling' for Miranda. If Ethan was her first, that would be really special for her, really cool. You know she's had a crush on him ever since middle school, and you remember when we all went home for Christmas Break, Ethan said he thought Miranda had gotten really hot. He's really into her. He's open to the idea."

Gordo adjusted himself on the bed, feeling even more uncomfortable. He did not like this conversation, and wanted it to end, and yet he could not stop himself from saying, "Miranda HAD a crush on Ethan. That was a long time ago. That has nothing to do with what would be good for her now."

"Are you kidding?" Lizzie exclaimed. "You really don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

"Geez! Gordo! I leave you and Miranda here together for the whole summer, I figured you guys would at least talk, become better friends. I figured by this time she would have told you. Geez! What _did_ you guys do together all summer?"

"Nothing!" Gordo screeched. "Lizzie, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Ethan. I'm talking about the fact that Miranda still has a major, major crush on him. Always has, always will."

"No, she doesn't," Gordo said reflexively. He hoped Lizzie couldn't sense how agitated he felt.

Lizzie looked at him quizzically, and Gordo's heart was suddenly beating even faster. All Lizzie said, after a long pause, was "Yes, Gordo. Believe me. She does."

He scrunched up his eyebrows and replied, "But…but…it doesn't make any sense! How…how can a girl who is waiting for Prince Charming have a crush on someone like…on a player like Ethan Craft? They're…. they're mutually exclusive."

Now Lizzie appeared even more confused. "I guess you don't understand women as much as I thought you did."

"I guess I don't," Gordo conceded.

"Well then, let me explain it to you," Lizzie said. At this point Lizzie launched into a long lecture about the workings of the female mind, and though Gordo looked directly at her the whole time, his eyes were somewhat glazed over. He wasn't really listening. He just couldn't get his mind past the image of Ethan Craft pouncing on his sweet, innocent Miranda. No! It couldn't be! She couldn't possibly want that!

"You understand?"

Gordo's eyes focused on Lizzie, who had obviously just asked him a question, but all he could say was, "What?"

"Do you understand _now_, Gordo? Does it make sense now?"

The only thing Gordo understood at this point was that if he said he understood, when in fact he had not heart a word she'd said, he could be setting himself up for a world of trouble later. Yet, he also could not admit he had not listened while she was talking, so the only way he could think to get out of this difficult situation was to burst out with what he was really thinking.

"The only thing that makes sense to me is that you should leave Miranda alone! Let her be, Lizzie! It's nice to see someone that has morals and standards. I admire her for that, and you should too. If she wants to…to wait…for Prince Charming, leave her alone."

Gah! He felt awful. That was an out-and-out lie, since he knew full well that the idea of "waiting" was long gone for Miranda. He had just lied to Lizzie, and it felt almost as bad as cheating on her.

Lizzie huffed. "Huh! You didn't always feel that way, Gordo. Used to be you were always trying to hook her up with Jeffrey Parker's friend Randall. Randall used to be good enough for her. He's not anymore? What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Gordo insisted. Yet, even as he said this, he felt so transparent. Surely Lizzie must see that he was having a hard time dealing with the fact that Miranda was nuts for Ethan, and Ethan thought she was hot and wanted to sleep with her. He found himself thinking: now that she was indeed "spoiled," what was there to stop her from sleeping with Ethan, her lifelong crush? Ethan was such a cad! The thought of his Miranda sleeping with that cad Ethan—!

"Gordo!" Lizzie exclaimed.

"What?"

"Where is your head? What are you thinking?"

Now he knew he was in trouble. He pulled himself up on the bed, faked a leg cramp, moaned a few times, causing Lizzie to exclaim "Oh, Gordo! Gordo! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," he breathed. He lay back, took a few more deep breaths, and at last his mind caught up with him, and he knew how to deal with this. "Now where were we?" he asked, once again taking command of the conversation. "Oh yeah! Ethan! I don't like Ethan. Lizzie. I never have. I don't care who we're talking about, Miranda or any other girl we know, I want someone better for her than Ethan. Ethan is the _last_ guy I would wish on anybody."

"Oh come on!" Lizzie objected. "He's not _that_ bad! What about Larry Tudgeman?"

Gordo laughed out loud. "Tudgeman is practically sub-human! He doesn't count. And since when are you Ethan Craft's biggest supporter? And how do you know how much about what he thinks about Miranda? Been talking to him much lately? Sounds to me like maybe you saw quite a bit of Ethan while you were back home."

Lizzie gasped. "I did not!"

At first Gordo thought he was being rather clever, taking the focus off Miranda and putting it on Lizzie, turning the tables on her, forcing her into a defensive position. But as soon as he saw how quickly she jumped into that defensive position, a little voice went off in his head. _Had he hit upon something?_

"Well," he asked, carefully. "How much did you see him…exactly?"

"A little," Lizzie said. "It's a small town, you can't help running into old friends, and by the way, you remember Ethan's little sister Jessica? Well, the poor girl must have been, like, dropped on her head as a baby, or something, because she's made the decision to go steady with my germ of a brother, only of course neither of them can drive yet, so sometimes Ethan would give her a ride to our house, and sometimes I had to give Matt a ride to his---I mean _her_ house, or pick them up from the movies, or whatever, so it was kind of inevitable that I would run into Ethan now and then."

That little voice in his head started to speak up louder, even to scream frantically. It seemed that Lizzie was giving too much of an explanation. He suddenly remembered Miranda's kidding remarks that maybe Lizzie was dating Ethan while she was in Hillridge. He wanted to say something, ask something, but then he suddenly realized that anything that might come out of his mouth at this point would sound accusatory, and he also realized, of course, that he had no right whatsoever to accuse Lizzie of anything, after what had happened between him and Miranda. So he closed his mouth, he held his tongue.

For a moment, the two of them just looked at each other, and it felt somewhat awkward. They both sensed some turmoil beneath the surface, they both realized that there was something which was going unsaid, but each waited for the other to speak first, wondering if they would dare to pursue it.

Neither did.

"So," Gordo said at last. "Ethan's little sister Jessica, going out with Matt. Ha! The way I remember it, she was really skinny."

"Still is," Lizzie confirmed with a nod, letting out her breath, which she had not realized she had been holding. "She's really, really skinny. But at least she has boobs now."

"She does?" Gordo asked in amazement. "How big?"

Lizzie gasped. "How big? You pig, Gordo! Did you really just ask me...How Big?"

Gordo shrugged. "Well..."

Lizzie punched him playfully. "Boobs!" she teased, as she straddled him, jiggling her boobs in his face. "Is that all you guys ever think about?"

"No, no! Not at all," Gordo said, reaching out to fondle her breasts, which she so freely offered. "What in the world would make you say something like that?"

"Oh…I don't know," Lizzie answered, pulling her tank top over her head and throwing it over the side of the bed. "Hmmm...I wonder...What in the world would make me say that guys are always thinking about boobs?"

Gordo reached up to pull Lizzie closer to him, then licked her nipples, muttering, "I don't know, I really…really have no idea…"

Lizzie giggled, and they continued to play. Soon, the awkwardness they had felt only a few moments ago was swallowed up by a wave of passion, and quickly forgotten.

At least for the moment.


	7. How Are You? Fine

The next morning, Miranda went downstairs to the kitchen to eat breakfast and read the newspaper. The house was quiet. After all the commotion she had heard coming from behind the closed door down the hallway till well past midnight, she doubted she would be running into either Lizzie or Gordo for several hours yet. For the moment she felt safe in her own house. She enjoyed a cup of coffee, allowing herself to be distracted by an editorial on rising gas prices.

Later today she would visit her friend Kristin, get another look at her new room in her new place, take some measurements, think about curtains. She was anxious to begin packing, and wanted to start going out to look for empty boxes, but she still had not figured out how to explain to Lizzie why she was moving. For the moment, though, she wasn't thinking about any of this. And it felt good.

Until Gordo appeared.

He walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a sleepy look in his eyes. He turned, saw her, and his eyes came to life, in that sappy lovesick way he had been gazing at her ever since that night they'd been together.

"Miranda…" he breathed.

Miranda scowled at him and sunk her head deeper into the newspaper. She had nothing to say to him.

Gordo floated across the kitchen and landed in the chair beside her, reaching out for her hand. "Miranda, please—"

"Gordo! What is_ wrong_ with you?" Miranda hissed, yanking her hand out of his. "Are you with Lizzie or not? As far as I can tell, you're with Lizzie. I mean, it certainly _sounds_ that way. So what the hell are you doing here with me?"

"Nothing," Gordo said. "I'm not doing anything, Ran. I just want to talk to you. I just want us to…I just want…"

But as Miranda dared to look up at him, she could tell by that pathetic puppy dog look in his eyes what he wanted, and it was not to talk. Lizzie was back in town, he had just spent hours frolicking with her in bed, and still…_still_…he was lusting after his girlfriend's best friend.

Miranda made a snorting noise. "You disgust me," she said flatly.

"Randa…" he moaned, devastated by her words.

"Gordo!" she snapped suddenly. "_Shut up!_"

Something about the way she said it made him sit up straight. And listen. Then he heard it too. Someone was bounding down the stairs. It could only be Lizzie.

They shared a worried look, then quickly Gordo jumped up from the table and headed towards the door. He had almost reached it when Lizzie intercepted him, all but jumping into his arms.

"Gordo!" she cried, covering him with kisses. "I woke up and you weren't there. Ooh, baby, baby…I missed you…"

Lizzie continued kissing him, rubbing her arms and legs up and down his body. She was wearing only a thin white tank top and a pair of Gordo's light blue boxers, and as Miranda watched them, she noted how smooth and tan Lizzie looked against Gordo's pale skin. Lizzie had obviously had a good summer, out in the sun, having fun. And now she was back…and having a different kind of fun. Miranda made that small snorting noise again, then turned away, sticking her head back in the newspaper.

Lizzie heard, and becoming aware that Miranda was there, instantly untangled herself from Gordo. She scowled at him for a moment, as if he had been the one acting indiscriminately in front of their friend, then turned her full attention to Miranda.

"Hey! Miranda! What's up?" she asked brightly.

Miranda glanced up from the paper, but only for a moment, and then only to return a brief, "Hey."

Lizzie noticed that Miranda looked white as a ghost. Something was wrong. Something was bothering her. And what kind of friend would she, Lizzie, be, not to try to get to the bottom of this? Her instincts from the night before had been right, and she intended to do something about it.

"So…hey!" Lizzie began, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a Diet Dr. Pepper. "Hardly got to talk to you at all last night, Randa. You feeling better?"

"What?" Miranda asked, then, "Oh yeah. My headache. Yeah, much better. Thanks."

Lizzie leaned against the kitchen counter and popped open the soda. Now she looked at Gordo and knew that something was wrong with him as well. When was the last time he had let her drink a soda for breakfast without launching into his Good Breakfast vs. Bad Breakfast routine? But at the moment he wasn't saying anything, he was just looking at her with a blank, yet semi-terrified look in his eyes.

Lizzie frowned at him. What was that look in his eyes? No, it couldn't be terror. That didn't make sense. It must be…embarrassment, she decided. Yeah, that was it. He was embarrassed because she was standing here, in the kitchen, in what was basically her underwear (well, it was _his_ underwear, actually, but the fact was, it _was_ underwear) and Lizzie supposed that Gordo felt embarrassed about someone (even though it wasn't him) being in their underwear in mixed company. He was very funny like that. He could be a real tiger when they were alone together, but in the presence of other people he tended to get all shy and proper.

Lizzie sighed. Well, there was only one thing to do then. No, she was not going to go upstairs and put on some clothes. The way Miranda looked, and after how she had acted last night, Lizzie would not have been at all surprised if she bolted again at the first possible opportunity. Obviously something was bothering her, and obviously she didn't want to talk about it. But Lizzie had now made it her mission to get to the bottom of this.

With a sudden stroke of genius, she put down her Diet Dr. Pepper can on the counter. And promptly knocked it over. "Oops!" she giggled. "Oh, clumsy me!"

She looked at Gordo again, now fully expecting the Breakfast Lecture, but still, it was not forthcoming. He only continued to stare at her with that panicky look in his eyes, and Lizzie frowned at him again.

"Oh, Gordo! Sweetie! Look! I've spilled my soda. And…and….oh, where are the paper towels?"

The paper towels were where they always were, of course, but Lizzie had noted the roll was almost gone, so she was able to say, as she reached for them and pulled off the last few sheets, "Gordo, do me a favor, run to the hall closet and get me another roll? I think I might need it."

She had to get him out of the room so she could talk to Miranda. If she could get him out of the kitchen, even if only for a minute, it would give her the time to begin to engage Miranda in "Girl Talk," and Lizzie knew that Gordo knew that "Girl Talk" was a sacred ritual, and would respectfully back away once he saw it was going on.

But Gordo continued to stare, seemingly unaware. Lizzie rolled her eyes at him, then barked "Gordo!"

At last he jumped, the spell broken. "What?" he asked.

"The paper towels…?"

"I…you…hey! There's the kitchen towel, hanging on the fridge. Use that!" He, of course, knew how Lizzie's mind worked, and what she was trying to do. In fact, that was exactly what had sent him into a stupor. But now his brain was working again, and he knew he had to do anything he could to avoid the initiation of "Girl Talk."

But Lizzie was not easily dissuaded. "Ewww!" she announced. "And then have this soppy, sickly sweet kitchen towel to have to wash? No way! Go get me some new paper towels. C'mon, honey, be a sweetheart and help me out here?"

Gordo looked at her, biting his lip. She had him. He had to go to the hall closet to search for paper towels, or else raise even more suspicion about his reluctance to leave the room. He also knew that once he got to the hall closet, he may or may not find paper towels there, since Lizzie was the one roommate who most insisted upon them, and actually bought them at the grocery store, and since she had not been here all summer, the supply might have run out. He wasn't sure what the status of paper towels in the hall closet might be at the moment, so he knew he had to go and check. But quickly.

"Be right back," he said, then ran out of the room.

Lizzie left the semi-sopped-up spill on the counter and sat down in the chair across from Miranda, so recently occupied by Gordo. "So…" she began excitedly. "How've you been, girlfriend? What's new?"

Feeling awkward, Miranda shrugged and said, "Nothing much."

Boy! Was that a lie, or what? In junior high, when Lizzie secured her first boyfriend, Ronny the paperboy, the two girls had one of their rare fights, in which Lizzie made Miranda feel bad because she did not have a boyfriend at the time. After that, they made a pact that they would share "Boy Stories" with each other whenever they happened. When Lizzie and Gordo first had sex, way back in 11th grade, she told Miranda all about it. Miranda felt uncomfortable and weird at the time, since Gordo was her friend also, and she really didn't want to think of him _that way_, but in friendship, she had listened to Lizzie gush on and on about how wonderful the experience had been. Well, wonderful…and awkward…and maybe even a little scary. But mostly wonderful.

And now Miranda had a similar story to tell. With all those similar emotions and feelings. And then some. Because, actually, her story was way _too_ similar. And that was why she couldn't tell it to Lizzie. And so she felt a fresh wave of regret and melancholy. She had lost not only her virginity, but also the long-anticipated opportunity to share the experience with her very best friend. And not only that, but she was also going to lose her very best friend because of it.

Lizzie saw the regret and melancholy pass over Miranda's face, and could not exactly identify the emotions, but she could identify the fact that something was not right. "Hey," she said quietly. "What's wrong?"

Miranda sighed. "Well, to tell the truth…this hasn't been the best summer for me. I wish I hadn't had to take classes over the summer. I wish I could have gone home, like you did. It would have been great to see my folks. And some of our old friends from high school. That would have been more fun than…than staying here."

"I don't know," Lizzie said. "You would have had to put up with seeing Kate Sanders strut around the city pool in her hot pink bikini."

Miranda laughed. "I doubt I would have gone to the city pool! That's so…so…junior high! What were you doing there?"

At about this time in their conversation, Gordo was running through the living room clutching a roll of paper towels. However, when he heard Miranda laugh, he stopped short, just outside the kitchen doorway, his blood frozen in his veins. As he had suspected, Lizzie was engaging Miranda in "Girl Talk" and he could only imagine what they might be saying. The fact that Miranda had laughed bode well for him…at the moment. But he dreaded where this conversation might go. Part of him wanted to burst into the room and stop the "Girl Talk" dead in its tracks, but another part needed to know exactly what they might talk about. And so he stood silently outside the doorway. And eavesdropped.

"Well, the city pool is apparently not just for junior high anymore," Lizzie explained. "I guess it's now the hot place for high school kids to hang out as well. I had to drive Matt and his girlfriend there on occasion."

"Matt's got a girlfriend?" Miranda giggled. "Who is it?"

"Ethan Craft's little sister."

"Jennifer?"

"No. Jessica."

"That skinny little bean pole?"

"Skinny little bean pole with _boobs_," Lizzie corrected.

"Oh my God!" Miranda marveled. "Matt's got a girlfriend with _boobs_!"

Gordo sighed. Okay. He was safe. It sounded like the conversation was going well. It was not about him. He knew he could not rely upon this good fortune indefinitely, but perhaps the time had come to walk in with the paper towels and—

"So," Miranda was saying, "if you were driving Matt and Ethan's little sister, I'm guessing that means that you may have, on occasion, run into Ethan Craft himself."

There was a pause. Gordo listened. At last Lizzie answered, in an almost sing-song kind of voice, "I may have…"

"So you saw Ethan over the summer?"

"I did."

"How often?" Miranda wondered.

"A few times."

"How's he doing?"

"Just fine," Lizzie answered, then giggled a little.

Miranda giggled too. "Do you mean he's _doing_ fine, or _looking_ fine?"

Lizzie giggled again. There was entirely too much giggling going on, as far as Gordo's eavesdropping ears were concerned.

"Ethan is looking…just…fine…" Lizzie confirmed.

"Do tell!"

Gordo wasn't sure, because the blood which was previously frozen suddenly began to boil, and that made him a bit dizzy, but he thought there was a bit more giggling before Lizzie went on in her rapturous description of Ethan Craft.

"Well, his hair is still long, really long, not Jay of Jay and Silent Bob long, but long enough that he can get it back in a pony tail. And blonde. Really blonde. Sun bleached blonde. Because he spends all day outdoors, you know. So he's very blonde…and very tan…and very…_very_…fit…"

"Fit," Miranda repeated. "I like the sound of that."

"Oh! Oh!" Lizzie said excitedly. "And he's _tall_."

"Well, I know that," Miranda answered.

"No, no! I mean, I think he's even taller than he was before. I think he might have grown an inch or two."

"Tall is good," Miranda agreed, then, "So he's still doing the landscaping?"

"Yes," Lizzie answered. "And I have to tell you, I had so much fun. He took me out one day to the Nursery, and he showed me all the flowers, and he knows all their names, I mean their scientific names, the ones ordinary people could never possibly remember, and he knows exactly what each flower needs, what each flower likes. He's so smart."

"Ethan Craft?" Miranda marveled. "Smart?"

"I _know_!" Lizzie agreed. "Who'd of thunk it, right? And he's talented too. He took me around town and showed me some of the bushes he'd cut. No, not cut. Sculpted. He does bush sculptures now, did you know that?"

"Like Edward Scissorhands?" Miranda suggested.

Lizzie laughed. "No, not like that. Not exactly. Though he probably could, if he wanted to."

"So he's really good then at what he does?"

"Oh yes," Lizzie said enthusiastically. "And he's doing quite well at it, too. Making good money, you know? I mean, you should see the car he's driving, and he told me it wasn't a gift from his parents, he bought it himself."

"What is it?" Miranda asked curiously, even anxiously.

"I don't know," Lizzie said. "I'm no good with cars, you know that. But it's red, and it's a convertible. And the seats are so…so plush and so…so comfortable. Hey!" she said suddenly, interrupting herself. "Where the heck is Gordo?"

"Who cares?" Miranda said. "Tell me more about Ethan."

"Well…what do you want to know?"

"Everything, of course!" Miranda said, and then there was more giggling.

By this point, though, Gordo had decided that he had heard all he could stand to hear about Ethan Craft. Besides that, his absence had been noted. As much as he wanted to know how much time his girlfriend had actually spent with the _tall_, blonde, tan, fit, good-looking hunk of a successful bush artist while she had been away from him this summer, he knew he had to break up the "Girl Talk."

"Oh, there you are!" Lizzie squealed as Gordo reappeared in the doorway. "Did you get lost?"

"This is the last roll of paper towels," Gordo said stiffly. "It was way in the back. It was hard to find."

Lizzie stood up and took the paper towels from him, busting open the plastic wrapper. She knew she and Miranda could not continue their conversation about Ethan, now that Gordo was here, so she decided she might as well wipe up the spill.

"I…I think we need to go shopping," Gordo said, glancing from one girl to the other. He was a nervous mess inside. He couldn't tell which one he felt more jealous about: Lizzie, who obviously spent way too much time with Ethan over the summer, or Miranda, for still harboring this hopeless crush?

"These paper towels will get us through until the others get back," Lizzie said. "There's no need for us to rush out and buy more right now. When everybody's here, we'll pool our money, just like we did last time at the beginning of the term, and do a big shopping for the house essentials. Miranda, is your mom still sending you those coupons?"

Yes, Miranda's mother was still sending her coupons. But now, Miranda realized, she would not be using them for this house, but for the new place she would be moving into before the next school term began. She was moving, and she had to tell Lizzie, but she still didn't know how she was going to explain it. There was no good explanation for it, except for the Truth….which obviously must remain hidden at all costs.

And then, all at once, being there in the same room with both Lizzie and Gordo, with the secret she so desperately wanted to hide from her best friend now uppermost in her mind, became way too much for Miranda to handle. She stood up abruptly from the table and said, "Yeah, yeah. She sends coupons. I've got coupons, you can have them. Sorry, I've got to study." And she ran from the room.

"Miranda!" Lizzie shouted after her.

Alone again with Gordo, Lizzie looked at him, perplexed, and said, "Huh! Now what do you think that was all about?"

Gordo shrugged. "Dunno," was his simple answer, though he had in fact guessed exactly what had been going through Miranda's mind, and the recollection that she was intending to move out caused a fresh wave of guilty misery to wash over him.

"What the heck is she studying?" Lizzie wondered, pulling some sheets off the paper towel roll and finishing her cleanup job. "There are no classes. There's nothing to study. What do you think is going on with her?"

"Dunno," Gordo repeated. "I guess it's like a reflex for her at this point. Miranda's been so busy with her classes over the summer, she just automatically says, 'I've got to study.' Sort of like when someone says 'How are you?' and you answer 'Fine,' even though you're not fine."

"Well, Miranda is not fine," Lizzie announced, dumping the soda-soaked paper towels into the kitchen trash can with an air of determination. "I can tell something's bothering her. And I aim to find out exactly what it is."


	8. The Wall

Gordo was frantic.

Suddenly he understood that there was no way he was going to be able to keep Lizzie and Miranda from talking to each other. Sure, Miranda was totally committed to not telling Lizzie what had happened while she was away, but Lizzie now seemed equally committed to finding out what was bothering her best friend. This was going to be a battle of wills. And taking into consideration Miranda's legendary inability to keep a secret, it seemed inevitable to Gordo that the flimsy wall between himself and almost certain doom was destined to come tumbling down...sooner or later.

In one crazy moment, he decided that perhaps the best thing to do, after all, would be to come clean with Lizzie, tell all, and throw himself on her mercy. If only he was honest with her, and extremely penitent, perhaps there might be some way he could yet save their relationship.

Gordo took a deep breath. Okay, he was going to do this. "Lizzie…?" he began.

"Yeah?" she said, standing at the kitchen table, distracted by the newspaper which Miranda had left lying there.

Gordo drew in a deep breath. "There's…uh…something I need to tell you…"

"Yeah?" she repeated, but still distracted.

Gordo now also noticed the newspaper on the table. He knew he was going to need Lizzie's full attention if he was going to do this. He began to say "Lizzie, look at me," but before he could get out a single word, his nerves overtook him, his throat clamped up and he began to sweat and shake. He sat down at the table to steady himself.

Lizzie looked up from the paper and exclaimed, "Gordo! What's wrong? You're sweating."

"I am?" he squeaked.

"Yes! Look at you! What on earth is wrong, baby?"

He took another deep breath. Okay, this is it. He wished she hadn't called him "baby." That made it all the more difficult. Nevertheless, he opened his mouth and said, "Uh…um…Lizzie…Something happened while you were away."

His heart raced. His head was spinning, like he'd just run full force into a wall. What had he done! Now he was committed. Now there was no turning back. He was instantly sorry he had started this and he felt sick to his stomach. He held his head in his hands, looking down at the table, wondering how he was ever going to get out of this.

"What is it, sweetie?" Lizzie asked, calmly. "What happened? And why are you sweating like that? Don't you feel good?"

Was this his "out"? Would he dare to say, "That's it! That's right. I don't feel well. I think I should go upstairs and lay down"? At least it would give him a little time to dream up an answer to the first question of what had happened over the summer.

But then…a miracle! He opened his eyes for a moment, focusing on the newspaper, and suddenly heard himself say, "Hey! Lone Star is open!"

Flooding his vision was an ad for the new restaurant, which they had been anxiously awaiting since last Christmas, when they first heard the rumor that their little college town was finally going to get its very own Lone Star Steakhouse.

"Yeah," Lizzie said. "I wonder if they've hired all their waitresses yet. I sure would love to get a waitressing gig there for the Fall. Could you imagine the tips?"

Lizzie had been talking about getting a job at Lone Star since the first day they'd heard it was coming to town. In high school she had waitressed at IHOP, getting a lot better at it than she had been during her brief middle school experience at The Digital Bean. In fact, she was a damn good waitress by this time, and Gordo had often told her she should be a shoo-in for Lone Star.

Temporarily forgetting his own troubles, he noted that the grand opening had only been this past weekend. "Well, look," he said. "You know how it goes. They hire a full crew for the opening, but invariably somebody doesn't work out, somebody just can't hack it. I wouldn't be at all surprised if they're still looking for a waitress or two."

"Ooh! Ooh! " Lizzie said, excited. "You know, Gordo, you're so smart. I'll bet you're right. I want to go over there right away. Hey! Let's go for lunch, okay? We can check it out, and I'll fill out an application. Would you come out for lunch with me? I mean…if you're feeling okay."

"Why shouldn't I be feeling okay?"

"Well, a moment ago you were sweating like crazy."

"I was?"

"Yes! I thought you were having hot flashes. My mom's going through menopause now and she's having hot flashes. It doesn't look like much fun."

"Lizzie, I am not going through menopause."

"Then why were you sweating?"

"I was…well…it's summer! It's hot!"

"And what was it you wanted to tell me?"

"I wanted to tell you something?"  
"Yes! Don't you remember? You said something happened this summer."

Gordo paused. He had said that, hadn't he? Taking a deep breath, he looked back down at the table, then suddenly answered, "Lone Star!"

"Yes? What about it?"

"That's what happened. That's what I wanted to tell you. That Lone Star opened and I thought you should go in to apply for a waitress job. So…are we going to go, or what?

Lizzie jumped about excitedly, squeezing his arms. "Yes! Yes! But I have to take a shower first. Will you wait for me to take a shower? Unless…baby…you want to take a shower with me?" she added seductively, rubbing against his arm.

This sudden change in her attitude brought forth vivid memories of the previous evening, when he had been Lizzie's "Slave Boy." He blushed a little as he remembered what had happened, and wondered for a moment if this sensation passing through his body was in any way similar to the hot flashes of menopause.

"A tempting offer," he replied. "But it's nearly eleven now, Liz, and you know how long you take in the shower, even when you're not distracted. I think the sooner we get to Lone Star, the better your chances."

"Again, so smart!" Lizzie grinned, pecking him on the cheek. She took his hand and began to lead him out of the kitchen, through the living room and towards the stairs, saying, "You help me pick out something to wear-- okay?--while I'm in the shower. Just in case I get an interview with the manager right away, I want to look young and fun… but efficient. Attractive, but not slutty. Know what I mean?"

Gordo smiled. He knew exactly what she meant, and he knew exactly which clothes to lay out for her. For the moment, he was feeling good, vaguely aware that he had just escaped some sort of disaster. He was only thinking of Lizzie, and her clothes, and a cinnamon sweet potato. They made it up the stairs, and Gordo had every intention of turning directly into Lizzie's room and heading straight for her closet. He was not thinking of Miranda at all. In fact, at the moment, if someone had said Miranda, he may have answered "Miranda who?"

May have. But not quite. For Lizzie did indeed say "Miranda," when she noted that the bathroom door was closed and cursed, "Oh, damn! I hope Miranda isn't taking a shower. She takes even longer showers than I do, wouldn't you say?"

Gordo had no answer to this, of course, as he was rendered temporarily speechless by the mere idea of Miranda in the shower. For, truth be told, Miranda in the shower was not merely an idea for Gordo; it was, in fact, a recurring fantasy. For most of the time that Lizzie had been away, whenever Gordo was in his room and heard Miranda go into the bathroom and turn on the shower, he could not help but imagine her naked, her bare feet stepping into the shower stall, the water cascading and beading all over her smooth skin, which she then proceeded to soap up with some concoction that was amber in color and smelled like tangerines.

Gordo shivered involuntarily as the elements of this fantasy flooded his mind while he stood in the hallway, at the top of the stairs. Lizzie walked ahead, about to bang on the bathroom door, but suddenly…it opened.

And there was Miranda.

Looking just like he'd imagined her. Well, not exactly, because in his fantasy she was completely naked, and now she was all wrapped up in a plush white bathrobe. But her hair was damp, hanging around her shoulders, and her skin was rosy, her eyes large and brown. She looked clean and good and Gordo was certain he could smell tangerines, even from all the way over here at the opposite end of the hallway.

"Oh, good!" Lizzie exclaimed. "I was afraid I was going to have to wait for you to finish."

"No, I'm done," she said quietly, glancing down the hall at Gordo only briefly as she pulled her bathrobe closer to her body.

"Well then, maybe you'd like to join me and Gordo for lunch at the new Lone Star! We're going in just a few minutes. I'm going to apply for a job!"

"Good luck!" Miranda wished her. "But I think I'll pass on lunch."

"Ooh! But the cinnamon sweet potato!" Lizzie said by way of persuasion.

Miranda tried a smile. "Thanks, but no thanks. I have a lot of work to do."

"Well…okay…." Lizzie said resignedly, letting it go.

But as Miranda moved down the hall towards her room, never lifting her eyes to look at Gordo, who stood stupidly at the top of the stairs, Lizzie did look back at Gordo, catching his glance meaningfully, as if to say _See! I told you something is wrong!_

When Miranda had slammed her door behind her, followed by a loud click of the lock, Gordo gave Lizzie an apologetic shrug and said, "Go ahead! I'll be in your room, preparing the most employable outfit you could ever imagine, so that there will be no way that manager can resist hiring you."

Lizzie squealed briefly as she bounced into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Almost immediately, Gordo heard the shower go on. But he did not imagine Lizzie getting naked. He didn't have to. He had seen her naked the night before. No, he was not thinking about Lizzie at all. All his attention was directed toward Miranda's closed and locked door, where he knew just out of his sight, just out of his reach, the girl of his dreams was fresh and clean and in some state of undress.

He wondered if she would put on powder…or cream…and if she did, what would it smell like? Tangerines again? Or something more heady… more provocative? He imagined himself standing behind her, one hand reaching forward to pull back the plush white robe while the other roamed her clean, fragrant skin, and all the while his face against her neck, refreshed by the coolness of her damp hair…

God, he was a sicko. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he let Miranda go? Lizzie was back, and she was so great, she ought to be enough for him…but she wasn't. He loved Lizzie so much, yet he could not stop himself from thinking about Miranda, from lusting after Miranda. He was sick.

And then he truly felt sick when music suddenly began to pound from behind Miranda's door. This was not The Dixie Chicks, from last night. This was Pink Floyd. This was not Miranda's music. This was the music of Ethan Craft.

Gordo's blood boiled as he remembered a conversation Lizzie and Miranda had had several months ago. Oh yes! Ethan _loved_ Pink Floyd. He listened to them all the time. They ought to give it a try. If Ethan liked Pink Floyd, they couldn't be all bad, could they? There had to be something good there, if _Ethan _liked that kind of music. They should go down to the mall right now and buy some Pink Floyd. They should buy The Wall, because it was Ethan's favorite Pink Floyd CD.

Gordo's blood boiled some more because he knew what had inspired this sudden erection of Pink Floyd's wall directly behind Miranda's door. Lizzie! It was bad enough Lizzie had apparently spent so much time with Ethan Craft while she was in Hillridge over the summer. That was a separate issue, one he couldn't deal with right now. But now…now Lizzie had come back into this house poisoning Miranda's mind with stories about how smart Ethan was because he knew the scientific names of flowers, and because he drove a really cool convertible.

And he would have to be tall and blonde and muscular. Still. All the things Gordo was not. Ever.

Yes, this was bad enough. But then it got worse. Because, apparently, from what Gordo had overheard from the kitchen this morning, Miranda still had the hots for Ethan. His Miranda! Lusting after this stupid…stupid _gardener!_ Gordo was so mad at Miranda for holding onto this middle school crush for so very long. He knew he had no right to say anything to her about who she liked. She could like whoever she liked.

Even if it wasn't him.

He was mad at himself, because he knew he had no right to be mad at her. She was not "his" Miranda. She was just his friend. At least she _had_ been, though apparently that was no longer the case, was it? But they had been close once. At least he had thought so. So why hadn't she confided the depth of her Ethan crush to him?

Well…Gordo thought now, biting his lip, that was pretty obvious, wasn't it? Surely Miranda sensed that if she had dared to reveal this silly crush to her super-analytical guy-friend, he would have tried to talk her out of it. Surely she knew that he would have pointed out all the good reasons not to be hung up on Ethan Craft, and would have tried to squash all the fun out of her harmless crush.

If…indeed…it was harmless.

Because worst of all, as this train of thought continued while he stood at the top of the stairway, it suddenly occurred to Gordo that if Miranda still had the hots for Ethan, and, as Lizzie had suggested, Ethan also had the hots for Miranda, there might not, at this point, be anything to prevent them from getting together.

Once upon a time, Miranda had embraced such high ideals, saving herself for Prince Charming. But those high ideals were all shot to hell, now that Gordo had forever spoiled her perfect dream. Once upon a time, Miranda had drawn such a clear line between fantasy and reality. Then Gordo had indulged his own Miranda fantasy, completely blurring that fantasy-reality line not only for himself, but also for her. Now that she had crossed that blurry line, what was there to stop her from indulging her deep-rooted Ethan Craft fantasy?

Oh God! That awful idiot! That…player! Gordo could not bear the thought of Ethan Craft having his way with his sweet, sweet Miranda! No good could come of it. Surely Miranda had to know that! If she didn't know it, at the very least, Gordo should tell her, warn her. Would she listen to him? If she maintained even the slightest iota of respect for his good judgment, she would have to listen to him!

Quick! He could hear the shower running, he could even hear Lizzie singing. Now was the time. He had to warn Miranda. He took the few steps to her door, hesitated only a moment…then knocked.

"Who is it?" Miranda called.

"Ran…it's me. Gordo. I have to talk to you. Please. It's important."

He waited, holding his breath, listening to the odious strains of Craft music mixing with Lizzie's high-pitched singing in the shower. He waited, hoping to hear the click of the door being unlocked. Would Miranda still be in that plush white robe? Would her hair be wet, her eyes big and brown? Would she smell like tangerines? He almost didn't care. He only knew he had to _warn_ her about Ethan Craft.

But he never got that chance. Because instead of the click of the door being unlocked, Miranda responded to Gordo's pathetic plea by raising the volume of the music, till the heavy tones of Ethan Craft's favorite band completely drowned out the gentle pattering of water in the bathroom, the melodic tune that Lizzie crooned in the shower, and all hope that Gordo might somehow get through to Miranda before it was too late.

**_Sorry this is moving so slow. I just love making Gordo sweat! :P I promise it will pick up soon. In the meantime, I was just wondering what you guys thought about Ethan listening to Pink Floyd. I wasn't sure if that would work. Do you think he would listen to them? Just curious._**


	9. Apples and Oranges

CHAPTER 9: APPLES AND ORANGES

Gordo shoved the last French fry in his mouth, rubbed his stomach and proclaimed, "Man! That was good!"

This large and delicious Lone Star lunch had almost felt like a celebration of Lizzie's new job. After an impromptu interview with the Assistant Manager, she slipped back into the booth across from Gordo, whispering "He likes me! I can tell. He said he just has to tell his boss he wants to hire me. I'm _so _in! I can feel it!"

With his girlfriend's apparent success at job-hunting behind her and a full plate of chicken fingers and French fries inside him, Gordo happily reflected how much like old times this all felt. Back when he and Lizzie first started dating, they used to go out to restaurants all the time. They also used to have sex all the time, and even though last night's escapades were like nothing they had experienced early in their relationship, the excitement was undeniable, and lingered between them.

He had temporarily forgotten his trepidation this morning in the kitchen, his narrow escape at making a confession, which he now felt certain would have been a bad move, a very bad move indeed. Also at this moment, he had magically forgotten all about Miranda, and harbored no concerns whatsoever about the fascinating pretty-boy Ethan Craft. It was good to be sitting here with Lizzie, seeing only Lizzie, thinking only about Lizzie.

"Yeah, this was great!" Lizzie agreed. "We should come here for dinner."

Gordo burped. "Sometime," he said.

"No, I mean tonight! We should come here for dinner tonight."

Gordo laughed. "Lizzie, you've got to be kidding!"

"Well, it wouldn't hurt for me to be seen hanging around. And maybe the Manager would be here, maybe I could talk to him…"

"Don't worry, Liz. It's in the bag."

"I know," she agreed. "But still…you've got to admit, this would be a great place for a double date."

"What double date?" Gordo asked stupidly.

"The one I keep trying to set up. The one we're going to have with Miranda."

"I'm not dating Miranda!" Gordo exclaimed, feeling his bubble of contentment unceremoniously burst.

Lizzie giggled. "Of course not! But who _should_ be dating Miranda? Got any ideas who we can ask?"

Gordo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Suddenly the meal that had him feeling fat and happy was morphing into a stomachache. "Lizzie, we've been through this before. Miranda is not interested in dating anyone."

"Well…what about Randall?" Lizzie asked, as if she hadn't heard him. "Is he totally out of the question?"

"Out of the question," Gordo confirmed.

"Then how about…what was his name? Matt? You know the one I'm talking about."

"Lizzie. No."

"Ooh! I know! Steve."

"Who the hell is Steve?"

"You don't know him. He was in my Psych class last Fall. He met Miranda one time and later he told me he thought she had very pretty eyes."

Yes, Miranda did have very pretty eyes. Gordo did not like to think about her eyes, while he was sitting here with Lizzie. He felt the need to turn this conversation to some other topic, but found himself rendered speechless by the unwanted memory of Miranda's large brown eyes, filled with tears, the night they had slept together.

"Well," Lizzie sighed. "He's probably not back in town yet anyway, I'll bet."

"Who?"

"Steve! Gordo, aren't you listening to me?"

There was no good way to answer this except by telling a lie, which he did not want to do, as he felt he was telling enough lies already. It didn't matter, though. In another moment, Lizzie was musing, "You know, if there's nobody good left in town, maybe we could get someone from out of town. I could call Ethan and ask him to drive up. I'll bet he would drive up to see Miranda."

Gordo's stomach lurched as he screamed, "Lizzie! Why the hell are you still talking about Ethan? I am sick to death of hearing about Ethan! I've heard way too much about him since you got back, and I don't like it, and I want to know how much you actually saw him, anyway, when you were in Hillridge."

Wow. He hadn't meant for any of that to come out. But there it was, on the table between them, and Lizzie was shooting him a defensive look.

"I told you," she said coldly. "We hung out a little."

Gordo hesitated, then stuttered, "Were you…were you…dating him?"

"Gordo!" Lizzie cried out, horrified that he could think such a thing.

Gordo knew he should not be heading down this path, but it was too late now. A green-eyed monster was tightly wrapped around his better judgment, forcing words up and out of his mouth. "I'm only asking because… well, because Miranda said she thought you might be dating Ethan." Now why did he have to bring Miranda into this?

Lizzie huffed indignantly. "NO!" she cried. "And how dare she--!"

"Yet, it seems you saw quite a bit of him."

"I didn't see 'quite a bit' of him. I told you, I saw him a little. We hung out. We did _not_ date! As if!"

Gordo stared at her across the table. Now that they've gotten this far, was there any other way out of it, other than straight through? Stupidly, he continued to plow straight through.

"So," he said flatly, "when it comes to Ethan Craft, what exactly is the difference between dating and 'hanging out'?"

"The same difference as there exists with any other guy," Lizzie replied instantly.

"So you're telling me you guys are 'just friends'?" Gordo questioned, raising his hands high to make elaborate air-quotes around the phrase 'just friends.'

Lizzie ignored his sarcasm and answered, "Yes. I can be friends with Ethan without it turning into anything romantic or sexual."

"That's ridiculous," Gordo stated. "With a guy like Ethan Craft, it's all sexual. That's all it's about. That's all he's ever thinking about."

"No, _that's_ ridiculous!" Lizzie shot back. "You talk like you know Ethan, but you don't know him at all."

"And you do?"

"I know he wasn't thinking about sex when he was with me!"

Gordo snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Yes, right!" Lizzie insisted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Gordo sat forward. "Listen, Lizzie. Don't be naïve. Maybe you weren't thinking about sex while you were with Ethan--or maybe you were, I don't know--" he threw in quickly, yet caustically, "but one think I know for sure is that Craft was thinking about nothing _but _sex the whole time he was with you."

"Why do I even bother talking to you?" Lizzie wondered. "You're so paranoid!"

"Paranoid?" Gordo questioned, his voice squeaking. "I don't have anything to be paranoid about!"

"You just _said_ what you were paranoid about! You just said you were certain Ethan was thinking about sex the whole time he was with me. And you pretty much said that you believe I was _also _thinking about sex while I was with Ethan. I'd say that's being pretty damn paranoid."

"Oh," Gordo said, now quiet. Yes, he had said that, hadn't he? And that would be a reason to be paranoid. He suddenly realized that when he had said "I don't have anything to be paranoid about," what he was thinking was "I don't have anything to feel _guilty _about." He was confusing paranoia with guilt. And he was, in fact, a victim of both.

His head was spinning again, too wildly. This conversation was out of control, and he didn't want to continue it, but Lizzie insisted.

"Look, Gordo, it's like this. If you're going to accuse me and Ethan when we are nothing more than friends, then you have to extend that same logic to…well, to everyone you know. I mean, you would _even_ have to say the same thing about you and Miranda! I mean, after all, haven't you and Miranda spent most of the summer together in--?"

"Now who's being ridiculous!" Gordo screeched. "How can you possibly make a jump in logic from you and Ethan to me and Miranda? It's apples and oranges."

"What?"

"Apples and oranges."

"What the hell do apples and oranges have to do with anything?"

"Nothing. It's something my grandma used to say. It means the two situations are NOTHING alike at all. These are two totally different situations. And since when are you so interested in logic? You've never used it before in supporting your arguments."

"I'm not arguing with you, Gordo--"

"Yes, you are! We are arguing, Lizzie. And I don't like it, and I don't want to do it. And how did this get started anyway?"

"It got started because you seem to think there is something evil about Ethan Craft. And I'm telling you there's not."

"And I'm telling you there is."

"Well, okay. I guess we are arguing. But all I'm saying is that Ethan is not the sex-crazed maniac you seem to think he is."

"Look, I went to school with Craft for…for how many years?" Gordo reminded. "I think I know the guy a little. And if he's 'hanging out' with you, that can't be a good thing. And if he's got the hots for Miranda, as you say, and should come swooping in here with his long blonde ponytail and new red convertible--"

Lizzie gasped. "Gordo! You were eavesdropping on us! This morning, you were eavesdropping!"

"I was not," he lied. "I did happen to overhear…but I wasn't…'eavesdropping'…" He made the air-quotes again, but his motions this time were not as pronounced, not as dramatic.

"And anyway," he went on, "that's not the point. The point is that I don't want to see Ethan Craft taking advantage of either of you. Not you, because you're my girlfriend, and not…not Miranda, because, well because she's my friend and I would hate it if--"

"Don't worry about Miranda," Lizzie assured. "She's got her head screwed on straight, you know that. She isn't going to let Ethan or…or, well, _just anyone_…step right up and talk her out of…well, you know how she is…"

Gordo looked at Lizzie blankly. Yes, he knew how Miranda was. Or rather, he knew how she had been. Until she did indeed let a certain 'just anyone' step right up and talk her out of her convictions. But then…perhaps her convictions had not been all that strong after all, he wondered now. Or perhaps…perhaps…he was not, in fact, _just anyone…_

"Gordo…?" Lizzie said carefully, noting his far-away expression.

"Huh?"

"Where were you?" she asked carefully. "Just now…?"

Gordo took a deep breath. Once again, the thought of making a full confession passed through his mind, but at the end of his deep breath, he said, "I was bashing in Craft's brains, for trying to weasel his way into my girlfriend's affections."

"Oh, Gordo…" Lizzie said dreamily. "You're so…so sweet…"

He smiled quickly, but could not bring himself to answer with the customary "I know." They looked at each other across the table, and the gulf that had sprung up between them now seemed to once again be a navigatable distance. In fact, Lizzie reached across the table, and Gordo met her in the middle, squeezing her hands in his.

They were both aware that something major had risen to the surface, and though it had for the moment been subdued, there were some issues that needed to be dealt with. Neither knew what to say at this moment. Should they continue, and risk getting into another argument? Or should they just go home and work it out? Perhaps… in the bedroom?

Before any decisions could be made, the "Theme from Star Wars" began to emanate from Gordo's pocket.

"That would be Tudge," he announced, pulling out his cell phone.

Lizzie waited, listening to his "uh-huh…yeah…really?…uh-huh's" for a minute or more before he snapped his phone shut and announced, "Wow! Tudge is having trouble installing a new TCP Protocol, and he wants me to come over and lend a hand."

"He said that?" Lizzie marveled. She knew that Gordo and Tudge both thought of themselves as computer gods, and for one to request assistance from the other would be an admittance of personal shortcoming, something that had never happened before.

"Well," Gordo amended. "What he said was, 'come take a look.' But I know he wants my help, he wants to pick my brain. How cool is that?"

"An opportunity you certainly can't pass up," Lizzie agreed. "Is he still at the Oakmont Apartments? I'll drive you over. He can drive you back home."

"You won't come up?"

"What?" Lizzie said. "And watch that G-4 TV with his roommate until you two are done one-upping each other with all the latest geek speak? No thanks, I'll pass."

As they got up to leave the restaurant, Gordo's brain began to run on overdrive, and he asked, "Where will you go?"

"Home, I guess," Lizzie said.

That's what he was afraid of! Miranda was at home, and he still hadn't figured out how he was going to keep these two from talking to each other.

"You should go to the Mall," Gordo suggested, holding the door open for Lizzie. "It's right around the corner, and you haven't been there in weeks. I'll bet you run into a few friends."

"I doubt anyone's come back into town as early as I have," Lizzie said.

"Well then…" Gordo said, the wheels still turning inside his brain, "you should go look for khaki pants, cos you know you're going to need them when you get this job."

Lizzie smiled.

As he knew she would. So easily diverted…

"Yeah…" she said. "I do have one pair of khakis, but that's not going to be enough. And besides, I deserve something nice and new."

"You do," Gordo heartily agreed as he got into the car. "You deserve something nice and new."

Three minutes later Lizzie was dropping Gordo outside Tudgeman's apartment. She made a left out of the complex. The Mall was just down the street on the right. As she drove towards it, she had every intention of turning in, but she got stopped at one light, and then another, and as she sat in her car, waiting, she had time to think. Too much time to think.

She thought about everything that had happened since she got back into town, less than 24 hours ago. Something was not right with Miranda. And now, she was beginning to get a strange feeling that something may not be right with Gordo either.

He'd been acting peculiar, nervous, even jealous. That was not his way. Several times he had completely misunderstood what she said and responded in a defensive tone. She wished she could remember exactly what she had said and how he had responded. It might begin to offer a clue as to what was going on with him. Unfortunately, her memory was not that good.

And just now! When he'd zoned out and claimed to be daydreaming about bashing in Ethan Craft's head….a good story, and she'd reacted with the expected "You're so sweet," but truth be told, she wasn't completely convinced that was what he had been thinking.

Hmmm….Something was off, something was wrong. All she had to go on was a hunch, and a good dose of "women's intuition," but experience had taught her that sometimes, that was enough.

The Mall was on the right. She did not get in the turning lane, she did not go to the Mall. Khaki pants she could get any time. An opportunity to talk with Miranda, without Gordo hovering about...that was much more rare. And much more valuable, at this point. If Miranda was not up to admitting that there was something bothering her personally, at the very least, after having spent the better part of the summer with Gordo, she might be able to say something that would help Lizzie understand what was going on with her boyfriend.


	10. Girl Talk

CHAPTER 10 GIRL TALK

Lizzie knocked on Miranda's door.

"Who is it?" Miranda called.

"Randa, it's me, " Lizzie said with a touch of confusion in her voice. First of all, since when did Miranda close her door? And if, perchance, her door was closed, since when did she ask "Who is it?" She usually just sang, "Come in!" What had brought about this sudden attack of privacy and secrecy? Lizzie supposed it must be due to whatever it was that was bothering her. Almost timidly she added, "It's Lizzie. Can I come in?"

"Oh yeah, sure," Miranda said, and a moment later, she was on the other side of the door, unlocking it.

"Locked door?" Lizzie asked, eyeing her friend with concern, if not suspicion.

Miranda shrugged. "I was getting changed," she said easily. "Hey, what's up?"

Miranda bounded back to the bed and sat against the wall, on a mound of pillows. She grabbed the bright green throw pillow in her lap.

"_What's up?" _Lizzie thought. _That's what I want to ask you! _

But she didn't say that. She thought it better to ease into the issues, especially since the two of them had barely talked together since Lizzie got back. It would have been downright rude to accost Miranda with a demanding "Never mind me! What's up with you?" So she simply sat down on the edge of the bed and said, "Not much. Well, hey! Yes, there is! I think I've got the waitress job at Lone Star!"

"Cool!"

"Yeah, Gordo and I went there for lunch, and I had a quickie interview with the assistant manager. I could tell he really liked blondes, so I kinda let him look down my blouse a little, and I giggled a lot, and touched his hand once or twice, and he said he would check with his boss, but he really wanted to hire me. So I think I'm in."

"I say again: cool! When do you start?"

"Not sure. I'm waiting for a call."

"And where's Gordo now?" Miranda asked.

Lizzie paused, wondering…_what is that I hear in Miranda's voice? Concern? Apprehension?_ Was it something, or was she just imaging things? "Oh, I dropped him at Tudgeman's," she explained. "They had some big computer mystery to solve together. I don't guess we'll see him till dinnertime."

"Good," Miranda said.

Lizzie eyed her suspiciously. "Good?"

"Well, I mean, that will give us time to talk without Gordo hovering about."

Lizzie nodded. "Yeah, Gordo can really hover sometimes, can't he? I can't wait to see what kind of dad he's going to be. Can you imagine?"

"I'd rather not," Miranda said dryly.

There was a pause in the conversation, during which they both looked at the TV on the other side of the room. "Whatcha watchin'?" Lizzie asked.

"Nothing," Miranda said, though Lizize could clearly see it was Oprah. Miranda was not a fan of Oprah, so Lizzie wondered why she was watching her show.

"So…anyway…._girlfriend_," Lizzie said, ignoring the TV and turning to Miranda with a fresh burst of enthusiasm in her voice, "How was your summer? Tell me all about it."

Miranda shrugged, clutching the green pillow even tighter. "Nothing to tell. Art History. Michealangelo…Leonardo… All of the Ninja Turtles, with none of the _cowabunga._ All in all, pretty boring."

"Still," Lizzie said, "it must have been nice having the whole gang out of the house for a few weeks, having some breathing room around here."

"It was alright," Miranda said non-committedly.

"Though I'm sure Gordo must have made a pain of himself," Lizzie added lightly.

"He was alright," Miranda said, still non-committedly.

"Well, I'm glad to be home," Lizzie announced. "I'm looking forward to things getting back to normal. Aren't you?"

Miranda hoped Lizzie could not see her smirk as she thought _Yeah, 'back to normal.' As if that will ever happen!_ This would have been a good time for Miranda to mention that she was planning to move out in less than two weeks, but she did not feel up to opening that can of worms right now. She felt quite sure that conversation could not possibly end well, so she just avoided it altogether. At least for the moment.

"Yeah…back to normal…" Miranda repeated, with no enthusiasm in her voice.

Lizzie's brow furrowed in suspicion. _Something was surely up! What was it?_ She sighed, restraining herself from coming right out and asking the inevitable question. Instead, she merely suggested, "It would be nice, don't you think, to maybe go out to eat tonight? Like we used to."

"You and me?" Miranda asked.

Lizzie nodded. "You and me…and Gordo, of course. And maybe…well…"

"No, no, no," Miranda said, shaking her head. "Don't get started with me again, Liz."

"But…but…there's this guy, Steve, do you remember him from my Psych class? The guy with the really cool glasses?"

"I don't care how cool his glasses are," Miranda stated.

"And he's a big fan of those Japanese anime movies you like so much."

"I don't care!" Miranda said emphatically.

"But I just called him, on my way home, and he's in town, and he'd love to come out with us, and you have to admit any guy who's a big fan of cartoons, even if they are Japanese, can't be all bad, especially if he's got really cool glasses, and he's _so _so funny, did I mention that? And _so _so smart—"

"Lizzie! Stop. I'm warning you."

"But why?" Lizzie insisted. "Why won't you even meet him? I'm not saying he's going to be your Prince Charming. I'm not saying he won't be your Prince Charming. All I'm saying is you won't know until you give him a try. Why won't you even give him a try and see if he might not be your Prince Charming?"

"Enough with the Prince Charming!" Miranda exclaimed. "That doesn't matter anymore."

Lizzie paused in confusion. "It doesn't? Why not?"

Miranda hugged the green pillow tighter as she stuttered, "I--well--I don't mean 'anymore,' I guess what I mean is that doesn't matter _now _because right now I just don't want to think about guys, about meeting guys, about going out with guys, I'm just not in the mood for anything that has to do with guys, okay?"

This silenced Lizzie. But only for a moment. She huffed, sat up straight on the bed, and in the next moment demanded "Miranda, what is going on with you?"

"Nothing's going on with me!" Miranda shot back.

"Don't give me that! How long have we been friends? Don't you think I know you by now? Ever since I got back last night you've been acting very strange and…and I'm concerned," Lizzie finished softly. She reached out and touched Miranda's knee. "Ran…will you please…_please_…tell me what's going on? Please tell me how I can help you."

Miranda looked away, trying to hold back tears. This was so not fair. She felt like the absolute worst friend of all time. For a moment she toyed with the idea of telling Lizzie the truth about what had happened between her and Gordo. Then she realized that though this confession might be good for her own soul, but it would probably devastate Lizzie. No, she could not tell the truth. The easiest way out of this was…a lie.

"Well, it's like this," Miranda said, still looking away. Then she took a deep breath, wondering what to say next. In that moment of silence, she was vaguely aware of a commercial on TV. _On the next Jerry Springer, cheating husbands, jealous wives…_

"It's like this," Miranda repeated with conviction. "The truth is…well, you know how I feel about Ethan, and the more I think about it, the more jealous I am that you got to spend so much time with him over the summer."

Lizzie sighed. "Oh, honey…."

"No, really!" Miranda insisted, almost beginning to convince herself. "It just doesn't seem fair. You got over Ethan a long time ago,but for some reason, I've been holding on to my silly schoolgirl crush, even after all this time, even though in my heart of hearts I know he would be absolutely awful for me. It just wouldn't work. You have to admit that. And yet, when I hear that he thinks I'm 'hot,' I get all excited. And when I hear that you got to ride all over town with him in his nice new convertible, well…I can't help but feel jealous. Intensely jealous."

Satisfied with this answer, Lizzie jumped up and hugged her friend. "Oh, you silly…silly!" she cried, her arms around Miranda's neck. Then she sat back down on the edge of the bed, and proclaimed, "I'm telling you, girlfriend, and you have to believe me, you have absolutely nothing to be jealous about. Yes, Ethan and I hung out a bit. Well, more than a bit. And yes, I did get to ride around with him in that beautiful convertible, and go swimming with him a few times, and even to a movie or two, but _that was all!_ Nothing happened between us! Do you hear me? Nothing! Ethan is not into me. And as hunky as he is, I'm not 'into' him. At least not in that way. How could I be, when I know how you feel about him? I would never _ever _encroach upon your territory."

"Ethan is not my territory," Miranda said sourly.

"But he could be!" Lizzie answered brightly.

"Like I just said," Miranda reminded. "I'm not sure Ethan would be the best thing for me."

"And you know that I think he would," Lizzie reminded, dredging up her old argument. "Just what the doctor ordered to jumpstart your love life! And I could arrange for him to come up and meet us for dinner sometime, if you like. I know he would drive up here in a heartbeat if he thought you wanted to see him."

"Lizzie, really, I don't think that would be wise."

Lizzie sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right," she said quietly, remembering her lunchtime argument with Gordo. "A double date might not be the best thing at this point. I think you should see Ethan by yourself."

"Lizzie! I don't want to see him at all!"

"But you have to!" Lizzie said, so wrapped up in her own thoughts she was not exactly following the thread of the conversation. "If we double date right now…well, Gordo is just not going to stand for it. You're not the only one that's jealous, you know."

This mention of Gordo put Miranda off the thread of the conversation as well, and led her to a new thought. "So, Gordo is jealous too? He's jealous of you and Ethan?" She thought that was odd, because not that long ago, Gordo had sounded extremely blasé about whether or not Lizzie might be dating Ethan while she was away from him.

But Lizzie nodded. "Yes!" she confirmed. "Gordo is jealous! Big time. I can't seem to make him understand that there's nothing going on between me and Ethan. He wants to think the worst about us…about me. It's really very discouraging that he doesn't trust me, when I trust him implicitly." Lizzie sighed heartily in despair, then wailed, "Why is it that nobody trusts me!"

"What do you mean?" Miranda asked.

"Why does Gordo not trust me, why does he think I was fooling around with Ethan? And why did you also think I was fooling around with Ethan?"

Miranda sat up on the bed and defended herself with "I never thought you were fooling around with Ethan."

"You just said you thought that!"

"No, I didn't!" Miranda insisted. "I said I was jealous because you got to spend so much time with him. I never said I thought you were _doing stuff_ with him!"

"Well…well…" Lizzie sniffed, "but Gordo said…"

"What did Gordo say?"

"He said…he told me this afternoon that over the summer you had told him that you felt pretty certain that Ethan and I must be dating and…and _doing stuff_…"

Miranda gasped. "He said that?"

Lizzie nodded.

"That…that LIAR!" Miranda proclaimed, now truly irritated. "Lizzie, I never said that! I never said anything like that! That idiot! He's putting words in my mouth. Do you want to know what really happened? Yes, we were talking about you and Ethan, and I said I was quite certain that you would _never_ cheat on him with Ethan, and he…he was the one! He was the one that thought you and Ethan were dating!"

"Well, I know _he_ thinks that," Lizzie said. "But you never…?"

"No," Miranda stated emphatically. "Lizzie, I NEVER said anything like that. I defended you. All the way."

"I should have known…" Lizzie said quietly.

"That…that idiot!" Miranda said angrily. "That ass! Why would he say something like that?"

"Oh, he's just being a _guy_," Lizzie said, suddenly defending her boyfriend. "I'm sure that's all there is to it. He didn't want to take responsibility for his own suspicions, so he made it sound like you put the idea in his head."

"Well, that's not right," Miranda insisted.

"No, it's not. But I really don't blame him. In fact, it's kind of endearing, don't you think? Him being jealous and all. I kind of like it, actually. You know that me and Gordo…well, things were not so honky-dory right before I went away for the summer. There was a good chance we were going to break up. But being away from him all summer made me realize how much I missed him. And I guess the same thing happened to him, I guess being away from me for the summer made him really realize how much he loves me, how much he wants to be with me, and only me…"

At this point, Miranda felt her stomach churn violently. Lizzie could not be further off the mark! Being away from Lizzie all summer had not made Gordo's "heart grow fonder"--no, not at all! Being away from Lizzie, Gordo had very nearly forgotten all about her. Being away from Lizzie had given him opportunity to betray her by sleeping with her best friend! And now…now he had the gall to pretend to be _jealous_ of her and Ethan—!

"That…that louse!" escaped from Miranda's mouth.

"Miranda!" Lizzie exclaimed in surprise.

"I'm sorry," Miranda said instantly.

"Why…what…why would you call Gordo a louse? I think he's been nothing but incredibly sweet since I've been back. Though, I must say, he _has_ been acting a bit odd."

"He has?" Miranda asked nervously.

"Yes! He's been acting kind of…nervous, kind of…paranoid…"

"Oh, Lizzie!" Miranda tried to laugh. "I'm sure Gordo had nothing to act guilty about."

Lizzie eyed her suspiciously. "Miranda," she said flatly. "I didn't say he was acting guilty. I said he was acting paranoid."

"You did?" Miranda asked, her voice squeaking. "Yes! You did! Sorry! My bad!"

"So why would you say that? Why would you say he has nothing to feel guilty about?"

"I told you! It was a mistake," Miranda insisted. "I misspoke. Sorry! Geez! How many times do I have to say it?"

"Do you know something about Gordo?" Lizzie asked, point-blank.

"Lizzie," Miranda said, striving to keep her voice under control, though she could feel her heart beating erratically in her chest. "I'm telling you. I know nothing."

"I think you do," Lizzie began, looking directly at her friend as the suspicions inside her began to toss around, warning her that something was about to happen, something big, and not altogether pleasant. "I think you know something about Gordo," Lizzie went on, almost against her better judgment. "Otherwise why would you say that Gordo would be feeling guilty? He said the same thing to me this afternoon. You both used the word 'guilty.' What do you know about what happened with Gordo this summer? What does he have to feel guilty about? What are you not telling me, Miranda?"

"I'm _not_ not telling you anything!" Miranda shrieked, jumping off the bed and beginning to pace the room. "Jeez, Lizzie! Paranoid much?" she added, hoping she had gotten the word right this time.

"No, not usually," Lizzie said, also jumping off the bed and matching Miranda, step for step. "But I think you are."

"I'm not…I'm--what would I have to be--to be _paranoid _about?" Miranda asked. "And while we're at it, what would I have to feel _guilty_ about, either? I'm not paranoid, and I'm not guilty, so I wish you would just drop this whole conversation, cos it's just--it's just plain _stupid_!"

"Is it?" Lizzie asked sharply.

"Yes! It is!" Miranda insisted, just as sharply.

After that, the two girls stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other, both afraid of where this was conversation was bound to go if either of them said another word. On the TV, Oprah droned on about something or other, neither of them was really paying attention. In another moment, though, they heard the front door downstairs bang open, and the moment after that, they heard the sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs. Then Gordo was in the doorway, panting as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Hey!" he exclaimed in a pathetic attempt at lightheartedness. "Whattaya know? So! Anyway!" he babbled, on, nervously bouncing up and down on his heels. "Lizzie! Miranda! Here we are, right? What's up? What's new? Hmmm?"

It was the wrong thing to say.


	11. Hits the Fan

CHAPTER 11: HITS THE FAN

_In honor of my faithful reader christyleereno, who keeps asking when the "you-know-what" is going to hit the fan, I have entitled this chapter "Hits The Fan." Enjoy!_

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"What's new?" Lizzie repeated, glancing back and forth between Miranda on the far end of the room and Gordo nervously fidgeting in the doorway. "What's new, Gordo? _What's new?_"

Gordo didn't like how agitated Lizzie's voice sounded. He had the distinct impression this could very well be the moment he had been dreading, the moment he had so desperately been trying to avoid. But there was nothing he could do now but continue to bounce around in the doorway, waiting for the inevitable. It was either that, or run. As much as he would have liked to run, he found himself immobilized, stuck to the spot, unable to escape.

"What's new?" Lizzie said one more time, now practically yelling. "I'll tell you what's new, Gordo! Miranda and I have been I _talking."_

Lizzie paused. Now, sometimes Lizzie was not the smartest girl in the world, but when it came to people and how to deal with them, she had more than an elementary education. She knew if she stayed quiet for only a moment, either Gordo or Miranda would speak, and when they did, what they chose to say might provide her with a great deal of information.

Sure enough, Gordo spoke. He couldn't help himself. "Oh, really?" he squeaked. "Well, that's nice. What have you girls been talking about?"

By the tone in Gordo's voice, there was no doubt in Lizzie's mind that he was disturbed about something. Surley nobody would ever use the word "relaxed" to describe Gordo's general demeanor, but at this moment he looked absolutely panicked.

"We haven't been talking about anything!" Miranda suddenly provided from the far corner of the room.

Lizzie looked at her. Was she imagining things, or did Miranda look just as panicked as Gordo?

"Hold on! That's not exactly true, now is it, Miranda?" Lizzie said sweetly. "You and I have been talking, very specifically, about what Gordo is… feeling guilty about."

At the same moment that Miranda shrieked, "Have not!" Gordo exclaimed, "Randa!"

Miranda looked at Gordo. "Gordo, I haven't," she swore, making the sign of the cross over her chest. "She's making it up. I haven't said anything."

"Haven't said anything about _what_?" Lizzie demanded.

"Haven't said anything about anything!" Miranda insisted. "There's nothing to say anything _about_."

"Oh, I think there is," Lizzie replied. "If you don't want to say what Gordo is feeling guilty about, then maybe you'd like to tell me what _you_ feel guilty about.."

"Miranda!" Gordo cried. "You swore you wouldn't—!"

"I didn't!!" Miranda yelled at him. Jeez! Was he always this dense?

"Swore she wouldn't what?" Lizzie questioned. "Gordo! What is it Miranda has to feel guilty about? And by the way, what is it that you feel guilty about? It seems to me there's an awful lot of denying of guilt…going on…around…"

Lizzie's voice faded as finally her mind caught up with her. And then it hit her. It hit her like a ton of bricks. Every cell in her body went completely numb as at last she put together all the pieces of the puzzle. She saw it all clearly, so clearly, and she didn't like what she was seeing. She looked from Miranda to Gordo, then from Gordo to Miranda, and if there was any shred of doubt left in her mind, the expression on both their faces completely obliterated that doubt.

"Oh…my…God…" she whispered.

There was one horrible moment of silence when both Gordo and Miranda knew their secret had been discovered. They stood quietly and ashamed, unable to move or say anything.

"Oh..my God…" Lizzie repeated. "You two…"

"Nothing happened," both Gordo and Miranda said at the same moment, from opposite sides of the room.

Then Miranda added, "No, Lizzie, we didn't—"

And Gordo added, "That's right, we didn't—"

But Lizzie said, "Oh, God! You DID. I know now what happened. I know now why both of you have been acting so weird, so…so paranoid…so _guilty_…."

"No!" Miranda tried once last time, desperately.

"No!" Gordo repeated.

"No?" Lizzie questioned, glancing from one to the other. "No? No? NO? Are you really going to stand here and think that I am stupid enough to believe you when you say 'No'?"

They both stood silent, hanging their heads, and then from out of the silence, Gordo suddenly spoke.

"No," he said quietly.

"No _ what_?" Lizzie demanded

"No, I don't think you're stupid, Lizzie. No, I'm not going to stand here and tell you nothing happened between me and Miranda. 'No' means…it means…well, it means…_yes_…."

"Gordo!" Miranda screamed. "You ass! You total ass!"

"No, Miranda," Gordo said strongly. "I can't go on lying anymore. I have to come clean. Yes, Lizzie. Yes. Miranda and I--"

At this point Miranda let loose a tortured scream. _How could this be happening?_

Lizzie was backing into the corner of the room, overwhelmed, flabbergasted. "How? When?" she asked in a small voice.

"It was only one time," Gordo said, taking a step towards her. He felt awful about what was happening, but at the same time he was relieved to finally have this all out in the open. "Only once," he clarified. "And it's not going to happen again."

"That's right!" Miranda said. "It's not! Because I'm moving out. I can't stay here any more with either of you. Lizzie, I'm so…so…sorry…"

"Miranda, you…you slept with Gordo…"

"Only once. I swear. And I didn't mean to. It just sort of…happened…"

"All that…_crap_…about saving yourself…"

"It wasn't crap!" Miranda insisted. "I hate what I did. I hate myself, and I hate Gordo, and I'm so…so sorry…"

Gordo was beside himself with grief, hearing Miranda say that she hated him, and seeing Lizzie shrinking deeper and deeper into the corner of the room, now hugging the wall. He made another move towards Lizzie, but as he approached, she suddenly came to life, throwing off his arms and screaming "Don't you dare touch me! Don't you dare ever fucking touch me! Ever! You pig!"

"Lizzie!" he cried desperately.

And now Miranda was crying too, literally sobbing, in her own corner of the room, as she kept repeating, "I'm so…so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Lizzie…And I don't blame you if you never forgive me. But I promise…I promise I won't cause any more trouble for you, because I'm moving out. I'm…I just have to wait for a room to open up in Kristin's house, and then I'll be moving…"

"No, I'm moving, " Gordo insisted. "It isn't right for me to stay here any longer. It's my fault, it's all my fault, so I should be the one to move—"

"No!" Miranda said. "I'm moving, Gordo!"

"No, I am, Miranda!"

"But I—"

"I don't care!" Gordo said. "I'm going to move."

"But—"

"Aaaargh!" Lizzie screamed, stamping her feet. "I don't care who moves! In fact, why don't you just both fucking move? I don't think I can stand to look at either of you ever again! Why don't you _both_ just move out and get your own little place together, your own little 'love nest,' and I hope you'll be very very happy together!"

Hearing this, Miranda burst out with a fresh torrent of tears. Gordo, however, made another move towards Lizzie, pleading, "Lizzie…Lizzie….how can you say that? How can you imagine I could ever be happy again, after what I've done to you?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find some way to be happy," Lizzie answered bitterly. "I'm sure you and Miranda will find some way to be very happy together."

"I don't want Miranda!" Gordo proclaimed, and at the moment, with all his attention focused on the suffering Lizzie, it was actually true.

But Lizzie said, "I don't believe you! You're both lying scumbags! All this time I've been trusting both of you, believing both of you. Gordo! I trusted you. Implicitly. I was so certain you would never, ever cheat on me. And you….Miranda! You put on your Little Miss Perfect, holier-than-thou Little Miss Virgin _act,_ and all this time…all this time…" she sniffed, "you've just been waiting for me to go away so that you could jump my boyfriend!"

"Not true!" Miranda wailed, tears streaming down her face. "That's not true, Lizzie! That's not how it happened!"

"Oh, I suppose you're going to tell me Gordo forced himself on you? Huh? Like I could ever believe that! Like Gordo could ever summon up enough mojo to make the first move? Oh, Please! He's so pathetic in bed! Just…just absolutely pathetic! Isn't he, Miranda?"

"Lizzie!" Miranda cried out in shock.

"Lizzie!" Gordo echoed, his manhood deeply injured.

"Yeah…he's just pathetic," Lizzie repeated, eyeing Gordo contemptuously. "And it's been that way for a long, long time. I have to do all the work in our relationship. I have to come up with little _games _to play, in order to keep it interesting, in order to keep _him _interesting. And you know what? Most of the time, it doesn't even work. Most of the time, he's just so, so boring…So maybe…maybe this is the best thing that could have ever happened to me. You know, I think it is. You know, I think I should be thanking you, Miranda, for finally opening my eyes to the truth, for finally making me see that I deserve so…so much better than this sorry…sorry, pathetic…excuse of a…"

"Lizzie," Gordo said quietly. "You don't mean that. I know you don't mean that."

Miranda nodded, sniffing as she quietly said "I know you don't mean that, Lizzie."

"Don't tell me what I don't mean!" Lizzie shouted. "Don't either of you tell me what I mean or don't mean! I'm telling you what I mean! I've been over you for so long now, Gordo! You were alright in high school, but that was ages ago. Your kind of sex is good for a...a _girl_, for someone who's inexperienced….for someone like…well, like Miranda. Someone like _her _might be impressed with you. But I'm not impressed. Not anymore. I'm just bored, Gordo. I need more. More than you can give me. I need someone who's…who's experienced, someone who's a real man, not just a boy. I need someone like…like…"

Here she took a deep breath, then suddenly announced, "I need someone like Ethan."

"Oh, God!" Gordo cried. "Not Ethan! Not again!"

"Yes, Ethan!" Lizzie replied, pulling herself away from the wall. "Yes…Ethan!" she repeated. "Ethan is a man! A real man! And Ethan is a considerate and experienced lover! And the best kisser…the best that I've ever kissed! And he has the biggest…longest…"

"Lizzie!" Gordo cried.

"Lizzie!" Miranda echoed. "But you just said—"

"Forget what I said!" Lizzie shot back. "Both of you forget everything I said about Ethan! I was just trying to spare you, because I knew how upset it would make both of you if you thought I had slept with him. But why should I care now if you're upset? Why should I care now about sparing your feelings? There's no reason now to keep telling that lie. So…Yes! I slept with Ethan! Not just once, but lots and lots of times this past summer. And yes! He was wonderful! He was superb! He was the absolute best I've ever had! And Gordo, you could _never_ compare! And Miranda, you will never _know _what it's like. I feel sorry for you. I feel sorry for both of you!"

Lizzie pushed herself away from the wall and noticed that both Gordo and Miranda were staring at her, their mouths open in utter speechlessness. She put her hands on her hips, pulled herself up to her full height and announced, boldly, "So Gordo, you can have little miss priss over there, she's probably just about your speed. And Miranda, you're more than welcome to my hand-me-downs."

There was one more horrible moment of absolute silence, save the monotone of the news anchor, reporting the days most horrendous events. It was unlikely, however, that very much had happened in their little town on this particular day that was more horrendous than what had just happened here in this room.

Lizzie let out a deep breath. Then she took a deep breath. Then she steadied her breath as she proclaimed, "I said it before and I'll say it again: I hope you two will be very happy together!"

Of course, as she said this, Lizzie did not sound happy at all. And as she suddenly stormed from the room, bumping into a stunned Gordo on her way out, the tears in her eyes could in no way be mistaken for tears of joy.


	12. A Friend in Need

**Okay, we're getting so much closer to the end of this now, but there's still lots of angst ahead. Please review…I love it, and it makes me want to write more and more!**

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CHAPTER 12: A FRIEND IN NEED

After all that yelling and screaming, the room felt empty and quiet the moment Lizzie was gone. Gordo and Miranda stared at each other from opposite corners, each unable to speak. Miranda was hunched over by the window, doing her best not to cry, and Gordo, in the doorway, felt certain that if Miranda caught her breath for only a moment, surely she would lay into him with angry words.

For his part, Gordo was shocked into silence, his mouth hanging open. Everything felt unreal. Lizzie slept with Ethan? His Lizzie…with that…_Ethan!_ As much as he had feared something like this might happen over the summer, nothing had prepared him for the way he felt the moment he heard Lizzie say those words.

He stared at Miranda, bent over and sobbing into her hands. _Oh Miranda… poor_ _Miranda!_ Surely now her friendship with Lizzie was irreparable. Surely that was why she was crying. And it was all his fault!

He felt like crap. He felt like less than crap.

Miranda needed him. He should stay and comfort her. But no…he needed Lizzie. He needed to find her and talk to her and try to make her say that her revelation could not possibly be true. Perhaps he had misheard her. Perhaps he was only dreaming, trapped in some ghastly nightmare, and none of this was really happening. He would find Lizzie, she would pinch him, he would wake up, and everything would be good again.

But poor Miranda…sobbing…weeping…

Miranda, Lizzie, Lizzie, Miranda. His head was spinning. Then suddenly he knew with clarity that he had to find Lizzie, and he bolted from the room.

Outside the house, Gordo saw immediately that Lizzie's car was gone. Damn! Now he would never find her. He cursed his stupid, ineffective bicycle, even as he climbed aboard. He pedaled as if his life depended on it, circling the block, circling the neighborhood, getting as far as the campus. Unfortunately he had no idea where he was going. He wasn't thinking. The only rational thought he had was that he wasn't acting rationally.

But that, at least, was a start. At the Quad, he jumped off his bike and fell into the grass, panting. He needed a plan. He couldn't think about anything that had just happened, he could only think about one thing: how was he going to find Lizzie?

He needed a car.

He caught his breath, he got back on his bike. Fifteen minutes later, a very distraught and humble Gordo who was knocking on the door of Larry Tudgeman's apartment.

"Hey, Gordo!" Tudge greeted cheerily. "Forget something?"

Gordo wrinkled his brow in confusion. _What the hell was Tudge talking about?_ Then he remembered: of course! He had just been here…was it only an hour ago? It seemed half a lifetime ago, and a misbehaving internet protocol so insignificant in comparison to the issues he now faced. But he took a deep breath, tried a smile and asked, "So, that TCP still working good for you?"

"Bright and shiny!" Tudge confirmed. He hesitated a moment then added, "You really know your stuff, Gordo. I have to give you that. I bow."

"Good," Gordo replied. "Because I'm going to have to call in that favor."

"What can I do for you, my friend?"

"I need to borrow your car."

"_No problemo,_" Tudge said casually. "What for? Got a hot date with Lizzie? Where'ya taking her?"

At the mention of Lizzie's name, Gordo staggered in the doorway. He actually felt his face go white. Tudge noticed it too, and his tone was quite different as he questioned, "What is it, Gordon? What's wrong? Is there something wrong with Lizzie?"

"No, nothing," Gordo said instantly. "I mean, she's…well, maybe not so good. Sorry. She's just…I guess she's upset. We…kinda had a fight, and she ran off, and I really, really need to find her."

"She's upset?" Tudge said, full of concern.

All Gordo could do was nod.

"What happened?" Tudge repeated. "What did you fight about?"

"Hey, can I tell you later? Can I just borrow your car? I really need to find her."

"Was she crying?" Tudge asked, a pitch of alarm in his voice. Ever since he and Lizzie had their one date way back in junior high, Tudge reserved a special, sacred corner of his heart for no one else but her. He did not, for one moment, imagine they could ever get together—even with Gordo out of the picture, he knew better than to think a nerd such as he might win the affection of the fabulous sweetie-pie Lizzie McGuire—yet he could not keep himself from being utterly concerned for her welfare.

"Was she crying?" Tudge repeated urgently, when Gordo had not answered. "Was she crying _and driving?_ At the same time?"

"I don't know," Gordo admitted miserably.

"Wait here," Tudge commanded. He disappeared, but a moment later he was back, car keys in hand.

Gordo tried to grab them, but Tudge pulled away. "I'm going with you," he announced.

"Oh, man! You don't need to do that."

"Yes, I do," Tudge insisted. "If Lizzie's in trouble, we need to find her, and two sets of eyes are better than one."

Gordo had to admit that Tudge's logic at this point was right up there with Mr. Spock's, and he was grateful for the support. Yet, at the same time, he dreaded the inevitable …_conversation._

Because Tudge would want to know everything that had happened. He would want to know exactly why Lizzie was upset, and crying and driving at the same time. And trapped in the car with Tudge, there was no way Gordo could escape his barrage of questions. So he resigned himself to the inevitable, thinking: _This is probably only the beginning of the price I'm going to have to pay for being such a royal asshole._

Tudge drove, beginning his questioning with an attempt to narrow down the most likely places Lizzie might go when feeling distressed. Gordo knew Lizzie would most likely go to her very best friend, Miranda…._oops!_ Not this time. Think again.

He knew Lizzie had made some casual friends since coming to this college town two years ago, but he didn't imagine she would feel comfortable enough confiding the depth of the trauma she had just been through to any of those girls. Gordo's greatest fear was that she was headed back to Hillridge. Perhaps to talk with her mother…or perhaps to see…

Ethan!

His blood boiled. _Damn that Ethan!_

Though Gordo was upset, he was not about to ask Tudgeman to drive all the way to Hillridge. And so they drove around town, two sets of eyes checking the parking lot at the Mall, the movies, the coffeeshops. They scoped out all the local parks, the riverwalk, and downtown, while Gordo repeatedly dialed Lizzie's cell phone, hoping against hope that she might answer it.

"Okay, where else?" Tudge asked, when all attempts had failed.

"Hold on," Gordo said, still trying his cell phone.

"Dude! Give it up. Obviously she doesn't want to talk to you. Do you even know if she has her cell phone on her?"

"I don't know," Gordo admitted, chastised by the fact that he hadn't even thought of that. "She ran out so fast…maybe she didn't grab her bag. But she usually keeps her phone right by her keys, right on the little table in the front hallway, and she obviously has her keys, so I'm guessing…I'm guessing…"

"I'm guessing she just doesn't want to talk to you," Tudge said flatly. "Are you going to tell me what all this is about?"

"Do I have to?" Gordo cringed.

"Gas is four dollars a gallon," Tudge said. "I think you _owe me_ an explanation."

Gordo sighed. Tudge was right. But not because of the price of gas. Tudge was being a friend, he was trying to help. So Gordo started to talk.

But only a little. He told Tudge all about Lizzie being in Hillridge. He told Tudge that Lizzie had slept with Ethan, but somehow he neglected to mention that he had done the same thing with Miranda.

"Dude!" Tudge commiserated. "That sucks. In fact, that sucks big green donkey dicks."

"Yeah, it does," Gordo agreed. "Big, huge…colossal neon green donkey dicks."

They drove in silence a moment. Something was bothering Tudge. In a moment, he could not keep himself from saying, "I gotta tell you, though, frankly, Gordo, I would have never suspected something like that from Lizzie. Are you sure you understood her correctly? Are you sure she just didn't mean she and Ethan were, you know, hanging out?"

Not the "hanging out" argument again! Gordo was about to lose it. Testily he answered, "No. Unfortunately, I'm quite sure she said she slept with him. 'Experienced and considerate lover' were her exact words, if I'm not mistaken. And then she went on to describe the size of his—"

"Okay! Stop! That's one mental image I don't need!"

They drove in silence again as Tudge continued to consider the possibility that Lizzie might be the kind of girl who would cheat on her steady boyfriend. He thought he knew Lizzie, and this just didn't fit the profile.

He looked across the front seat at Gordo, who was obviously in misery. Tudge felt sorry for his friend, but at the same time, he sensed a mystery. _Lizzie wouldn't do that!_ There had to be more to this story!

"Well," Tudge repeated, "like I said. That sucks. I mean…I thought you and Lizzie were tight."

Gordo nodded a little. He had never told Tudge that he and Lizzie were having problems right before the summer term. In true guy-fashion, Gordo tended to downplay anything that might reflect negatively upon his guyhood. In fact, he hadn't talked to anyone about his problems with Lizzie. Well, no. That was not exactly true. He had talked with Miranda…

Gordo's thoughts drifted to Miranda, wondering how she was doing alone at home, wondering if she was still crying. He should have stayed to comfort her. She would have none of it, of course, but at least he should have tried.

"But why?"

Gordo emerged from his Miranda-trance to hear Tudge questioning "Why?"

"Why what?"

"I said: if you and Lizzie were so tight, why would she suddenly cheat on you with Ethan Craft?"

"You just _said _why," Gordo answered in an annoyed voice. "Ethan Craft! It's the two-word answer to all my girl problems. You remember how he was, back in high school. When it comes to girls, it's like he has this…this magical power over them," he added bitterly, thinking now not only of Lizzie, but also of Miranda.

"Some girls…maybe," Tudge conceded. "But Lizzie's not that way. She wouldn't do that to you. She must have had a good reason. There's got to be more to this story."

"There's not," Gordo said. Which was a lie.

"But… but you must have done something to piss her off along the way. Otherwise, why would she run to Ethan?"

"I haven't done anything!" Gordo exclaimed, still lying. "Why would you think I've done something to hurt Lizzie?"

Tudge drove on, silently, watching the road. He could see how upset Gordo was, so there was no more conversation, until they got back to his apartment. But all the while, the mighty Tudge Brain was working…

As Tudge pulled into his parking space at the apartment, Gordo asked, "Now what?"

"Come on up," Tudge said. "I've got an idea."

Inside, they found Tudge's roommate and a couple of friends huddled around the TV set, silently punching video controllers.

"Hey, cool!" Gordo said, immediately distracted. "Is that Metal Gear?"

"Metal Gear Solid FOUR," he was informed.

"Cool," Gordo repeated, as he continued to stare at the screen, mesmerized.

"Hey, Millard," Tudge said to his roommate, "borrow your phone a second?"

Millard nodded, his eyes never leaving his game. Tudge reached for the cell phone lying on the kitchen table, looked at Gordo a moment, then called, "HEY!"

Gordo broke his focus and looked at Tudge.

"Remember Lizzie?" Tudge said, somewhat impatiently.

"Oh, yeah!"

"What's her number?"

Gordo saw immediately what Tudge was up to, and though he was grateful, at the same time he chastised himself again for not being smart enough to have thought this up himself. Gordo gave the number and Tudge punched it in.

Gordo reached for the phone, but Tudge pulled it away, saying, "No, you clown! She might not recognize the number, but she _will _recognize your voice the moment she hears it. Give me a minute. Maybe she'll talk to me."

Tudge went into the corner of the kitchen and stood by the refrigerator, as far away from the video game noise as he could get. The phone rang five times, then he heard Lizzie's tremulous voice. "Hello?"

"Hey, Liz!" he breathed in relief. "It's me, Tudge, Larry Tudgeman."

"Tudgeman?" she answered uncertainly, between sniffs.

Gordo stood in the middle of the kitchen, hovering over Tudge as he listened expectantly, trying to keep himself from pulling the phone out of his friend's hand.

"Yeah, _La Tudge_," Tudgeman joked, trying to keep it light. "Hey, Liz! You alright?"

Lizzie sniffed again. "Why are you calling me?" she asked, suspiciously. "You never call me. Did Gordo put you up to this? Is he _right there_?"

Tudge sighed. "Yes, he's right here. But he didn't put me up to this, Liz. He said you ran off. He was worried about you. _I_ was worried about you. So I just want to make sure you were okay."

There was a moment's hesitation on the line, and Tudge thought Lizzie might be struggling with tears. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later in the tone of her voice as she answered, meekly, "I'm okay."

"Are you…are you…where are you, Lizzie?" he asked outright.

"I'm not going to tell you that," Lizzie said, strong again. "Gordo doesn't need to know where I am! He doesn't need to know anything about me anymore! We're through."

"I know," Tudge said quietly. "He told me everything."

"Oh, he did, did he?" she questioned, a wicked undertone in her voice. "Then he told you that he slept with Miranda?"

Tudge hesitated a moment before answering, "No. He didn't tell me that."

Lizzie made a snorting noise of disgust. "That figures! Though I'm sure he told you I slept with Ethan?"

"Yeah," Tudge said. "He did tell me that."

Lizzie made the snorting noise again. "Of course! It's all _my _fault, right? And none of it is his fault! Well, guess what? That's not exactly the way it happened. You can't believe everything he says, Larry. In fact, at this point, I don't think you can really believe _anything_ he says. I wouldn't trust him. I wouldn't trust him as far as I can throw him."

Tudge looked at Gordo and conceded, "Well, yeah. Maybe you're right. But I'm not his girlfriend. I'm just his friend. And I'm your friend too, Lizzie. So, in the interest of friendship, I'm gonna let Gordo stay here for the night, okay? I can understand if you don't want to see him right now, so I'll keep him out of your hair. So you can go back home if you want. This way, you don't have to worry about running into him quite yet. I think the two of you could probably use a little time apart."

"Oh…ya think?" Lizzie yelled, loud enough that Gordo could hear. "Well, that's just swell, isn't it? So, you think I can go back to my own house, do you? Gordo won't be there, sure, but what about Miranda? You think I want to have to deal with Miranda right now? Forget it! That lying…cheating…_skank! _ I don't ever want to see her again either!"

Tudge held the phone away from his ear, wincing, as Lizzie launched her angry tirade against both Miranda and Gordo. Her agitated words traveled through the phone and filled the kitchen. This went on for a minute or two, and ended with something about Tudge inviting Miranda to spend the night as well, and some kind of gibberish about a "love nest."

By the time she got to "love nest," Lizzie was once again on the verge of tears, and Tudge put the phone back to his ear. "Look, Lizzie," he said. "I understand how upset you are. But I'm not really the one you should be yelling at, am I? If you need to talk… well, maybe you should be talking to Gordo about all this."

"Don't tell me I should be talking to Gordo!" Lizzie said, the fire lit once again. "And don't you dare even think of trying to trick me into talking with Gordo, because I never want to talk to him or lay eyes on him again! And if he asks you if I had anything to say to him, you can tell him yeah, I said he should go fuck himself! No better yet, he should go fuck Miranda, and _then_ he should go fuck himself! I mean it! He should go fuck himself." She sniffed, then added quietly, but bitterly, "First, himself. And then Miranda."

Tudge stood silently in shock. Had he just heard Lizzie McGuire use "The F Word"? Not once, but four--count 'em--four times?

Suddenly Lizzie was very quiet as she said, "Listen, Larry. Thanks for caring about me, thanks for trying to give me a way to go back home. I just…can't. I can't go back there. I don't know if I'll be able to go back there ever again. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I can't go home. Really, I appreciate all you're trying to do for me, but I…I…I have to go…"

Lizzie hung up and Tudge snapped the phone shut. Gordo immediately pounced, demanding, "What did she say? What did she say?"

Tudge stood for a moment, considering his conversation with Lizzie. "She said…she said you slept with Miranda."

Gordo groaned. He should have guessed that much.

"She said you slept with Miranda," Tudge repeated. Then, "Dude! You slept with Miranda!"

"God!" Gordo exclaimed. "You don't have to keep saying it!"

"It's just…it's just…" Tudge said in wonderment. "I mean…Gordo! You slept with _Miranda._"

"Stop saying that!"

"You really can't blame me, can you?" Tudge said. "It boggles the imagination. Miranda Sanchez. In the sack. So. Tell me. What was that like?"

"God!" Gordo cried again. "Do you have to be such a pig?"

"No," Tudge said, unshaken. "In case you haven't noticed, pal, I'm not the pig. You are! I mean, look at it this way: You've got a beautiful girlfriend like Lizzie and that's not enough? You have to go for Miranda too?"

"I…I… It's not like I planned any of this! I couldn't help myself!"

"Well, I can totally understand that," Tudge commented. "That Miranda is one hot babe. I wouldn't mind it myself if—"

"Tudge, can we stay on track here?"

"You think she would go for me?" Larry asked suddenly.

Gordo sighed. "I don't think she would go for anyone _now_," he said miserably. "After the absolute jackass I've been, I think I've turned her off to all guys indefinitely. I wouldn't be surprised if I turned her into a lesbian."

"Hmm…a lesbian…" Tudge considered, then, "I could get on board with that."

"Forget about Miranda, willya? What about Lizzie? Did she say she would talk to me?"

Tudge stared at him in disbelief.

"Tell me!" Gordo pleaded. "Will she talk to me? Ever again?"

"Gordo," Tudge said flatly. "You slept with her best friend. I would forget about talking to her any time in the near future and just be thankful she's not heading over here with a knife to cut off your private parts."

"Oh, thanks a lot," Gordo said sarcastically. "That makes me feel a _whole_ lot better."

They stood for a moment, facing each other in the far corner of the kitchen, then, suddenly, Tudge took a deep breath and said, "Look, Gordo. You see those guys in the living room? You know Millard. Have you met his friend Otto? Well, Otto's roommate just moved out last week. He's still looking for someone to fill the spot."

"SO?" Gordo asked in utter confusion.

Tudge tried a gentle smile as he suggested, "So…my advice, Gordo…if you care anything about Lizzie…I think you should go talk to Otto."


	13. The Hell With It!

**Lizzie McGuire fanfiction is pretty much dead these days, especially the M section, so I'm happy to keep this story alive for those of you who like to read some stuff with a sharper edge. Nothing fluffy or sugar-coated about this story, is there! It may not be as racy as it COULD be, but I promise you some more racy stuff is yet to come.**

**But anyway, as for not being sugar-coated, in this next chapter, Miranda will reflect that "Nobody was guiltless." I think that pretty much sums it up about the characters in this story. Everyone is behaving badly, some more than others. Well, in the last chapter, Tudge was kind of a hero, wasn't he? But then, I have always had a soft spot in my heart for Tudgeman. He's my hero. I'd like to write a story for him someday.**

**And I do have a new story cooking, but alas, it's not for Tudge. It's another Gordo story, but in this one he will be quite different than the Gordo I am portraying in Spoiled. It will be fun, and weird, and occasionally racy. I hope you'll all like it.**

**But first, let's get back to Spoiled Too, in a chapter I call…**

CHAPTER 13: THE HELL WITH IT!

Miranda cried into her bed pillows, well past the time that the room slipped into twilight. She was alone in the huge house, all her roommates having jumped ship for summer vacation or Friday night partying…or, in the case of Lizzie and Gordo, having run off in a fit of emotion. In view of everything that had happened, Miranda felt entitled to her own emotions. And so she wailed, wondering how in the world her life had ever gotten so messed up.

At first, it was all emotion, all feeling sorry for herself. And feeling sorry for Lizzie too—

But…Wait!

Miranda sniffled, blew her nose and thought: _Maybe Lizzie DOES deserve this_!

With her nose clear, Miranda could breathe better, more oxygen reached her brain. As her thoughts grew sharper she remembered the double-whammy that had just been dealt and wondered which was worse: the fact that Lizzie knew she and Gordo had slept together…or…

The fact that Lizzie had slept with Ethan!

Ethan! _Her_ Ethan!

Lizzie had always promised she would never sleep with Ethan, that she would never _do anything_ with Ethan. She claimed that out of respect for Miranda's hopeless Craft-crush, no matter what happened, she would maintain a "hands off" policy when it came to this particular hunk. "Our friendship," Lizzie had more than once proclaimed, "is _tons _more important to me than any _guy._"

That friendship was dead now, of course. But, Miranda thought bitterly, if that's the way Lizzie was, maybe it really hadn't been that good of a friendship to begin with…

Hmmm…All matters involving Ethan Craft aside, their friendship would have to be over anyway. If you can't sleep with your best friend's hopeless crush and get away with it, so much less can you sleep with your best friend's _boyfriend _and expect no repercussions.

Miranda sighed, tears finally abating, leaving her with the feeling that a big hole had been shot through her heart. Sure, she had been wronged, but she also _was_ wrong. Nobody was guiltless.

Oh well. Maybe it was best to have this all out in the open. Lizzie had been back only 24 hours and in that short a time all this lying and game-playing had proven most uncomfortable, very tiring. Miranda doubted she could have kept up the charade for the two weeks until she moved out.

That's right…She just remembered. She was moving out. The thought of all she had already lost, coupled with the knowledge that she was about to lose what had been "home" to her these past two years, left her with immeasurable sadness.

_Oh…the hell with it!_ she thought. Life, as she knew it, was over.

_Oh… the hell with it! _She and Gordo were no longer friends. She and Lizzie were no longer friends. She'd lost her virginity to a jerk who would cheat on his girlfriend. How much worse could this get?

_Oh… the hell with it!_ Yes! The hell with it! She was pulling out all the stops. What did it matter anymore? She and Lizzie and Gordo had had it out. There was only one more person she wanted to deal with. Ethan. She felt compelled to give him a piece of her mind.

And so, before she had too much of a chance to think this through, she got off her bed, found her cell phone on the dresser, and punched a few keys. She saw Ethan's number. This was a number she herself had always been too shy, or nervous, or uncertain, to call. But now…_the hell with it!_ She listened to the ringing, hoping it would not go to voice mail.

"Craft here!"

She heard Ethan's voice, as if he were in the room with her. As always, the mere sound of his voice blew her away.

"Hey…" she said quietly, shyly.

After a pause, "Who's this?" Ethan asked curiously.

Miranda settled herself comfortably against her pillows in the dark, working up her nerve again. "Hey, Ethan, how are you?" she sang into the phone with an unnatural brightness. "This is Miranda!"

There was another pause, and Miranda could almost hear the wind passing through Ethan's head, as he struggled to catch up with current events. Then suddenly he exclaimed, "The delectable Miranda Sanchez! Hey there, Sexy Legs!"

The "Sexy Legs" remark temporarily tongue-tied her as all the most mortifying moments of her Craft-crush came crashing into the present moment.

After a short but extremely pronounced silence, Ethan suddenly spoke, his voice full of concern. "Hey, Lizzie made it back alright, didn't she? Like, she left yesterday afternoon, so she's there now, right?"

"Oh yeah, she's here," Miranda assured, regaining her voice as she felt the anger rebuilding inside her. "Well, sort of. Not _right_ here, not this very moment. But she was here, a while ago. Yep. She was here, telling us stories. Very…interesting stories. All about how _cozy_ you two have been."

"Telling who? Who, us? You don't mean Gordon, do you? She told Gordon?" Ethan sounded surprised. "Huh. I didn't think she would."

"Oh, yeah, she told him alright," Miranda assured. "We've all been having a grand old time, sharing secrets, telling tales, and a lot of stuff has come out…that maybe shouldn't have come out, and a lot of things were said, that maybe shouldn't have been said, but it's too late now, I guess. The damage has been done."

"Damage? How much damage?" Ethan wondered. "Lizzie told me Gordo tends towards the jealous side, but I certainly didn't think it would cause any serious damage…"

"You didn't?" Miranda screamed in disbelief. "Ethan! Are you insane? You sleep with Lizzie and you don't think that will cause any serious damage between her and Gordo?"

"What!" Ethan exclaimed. "Whoa! Miranda! Back up, back up. Did you say I slept with Lizzie? I mean, there was that time at the movies, it was really late, we both kind of nodded off for a moment but—"

"Stop being an idiot, Craft! You slept with her! You had sex with her!"

"WHAT!" Ethan cried out again.

There was another moment of deafening silence, and then, suddenly, Miranda heard Ethan laughing uncontrollably.

"You think it's _funny_?" Miranda accused. She was so pissed! How could he laugh about something like this!

"Miranda," Ethan chuckled, when he had regained his self-control enough to speak again. "You and Gordon are the ones that are funny! You're so freaking paranoid! What the hell ever gave you the idea that Lizzie and I had sex?"

Miranda felt confused as she blurted out, "Lizzie did! She said you did!"

Ethan paused. "She did?"

"She did!" Miranda confirmed.

"Now _that's_ funny!" Ethan said. "I mean….not 'ha-ha' funny. It's _weird _funny. Why would she say something like that?"

"Wait," Miranda said. "Let me get this straight. Are you telling me you and Lizzie did NOT sleep together?"

"In her _dreams_, maybe," Ethan allowed in an amused tone. "But in real life…no. That never happened, Miranda."

Now it was Miranda's turn to say "Huh…."

Ethan gave Miranda a moment to catch up. He also had some catching up of his own to do. This was a most curious situation.

"So…" Miranda said at last. "Let's get this straight. You're saying it didn't happen? Are you sure?"

This time Ethan's laugh was lighter, not so hysterical. "Believe me, Miranda. If I ever had sex with Lizzie, I'm sure I would remember it."

"So what…what exactly did happen?" Miranda asked, feeling a good deal of her anger being eaten up by curiosity.

"Nothing much," Ethan confessed. "I mean, Liz and I spent some time together, sure. We were, you know, _hanging out_. I guess you could say we went on a couple of dates. At least that's the way I saw it. We go to dinner and a movie, the guy pays, that's a date, right? And at the end, there's supposed to be a little return on the investment, dig? Only Lizzie never came through. Okay, I admit, I kept trying to kiss her, but she'd shoot me down every time! She kept talking about Gordon, about how she couldn't be 'untrue' to him. And there was something about you in there, too, Miranda, but I didn't quite get that. Hey! You girls are not….like…"

Miranda could tell Ethan was getting turning on by the mere thought of some girl-on-girl action, but about this time, she was feeling too miserable to be shocked or angry with him.

"Are you sure?" she asked again, totally ignoring his innuendo. "Just hanging out? Just a few innocent, platonic dates? I mean, you wouldn't be lying to me, would you, Ethan?"

"Miranda," Ethan said firmly. "I have no idea what Pluto has to do with any of this, but I will say this much: Fiona Newberry." He paused, then repeated, "Fiona Newberry. You know what I'm talking about?"

Miranda nodded, even though she knew Ethan couldn't see her. Of course she remembered the "Fiona Fiasco" from ninth grade. The tale was legendary among those who had been there. The way Miranda remembered it, Ethan Craft had gotten himself into a heap of trouble with a girl he really liked by telling a pack of lies that his simple brain could not keep straight after a very short time. After being bitch-slapped in the cafeteria by Fiona Newberry, he made up his mind that he was only ever going to tell the absolute truth from now on. From that point on, any time he got bitched-slapped, it was for something he had actually done.

"Oh my God…" Miranda said quietly, as the truth suddenly dawned on her.

"Yeah, I'm kinda thinkin' the same thing," Ethan agreed. "Oh my God. What the hell is going on over there, Miranda?"

"Then she didn't…." Miranda babbled. "And she didn't…."

"No, she didn't," Ethan confirmed, for what felt to him like the hundredth time. "So the real question becomes: why did she say that she did?"

Miranda could not answer. She had not really heard him. She was too busy thinking: _Lizzie is NOT the kind of girl would cheat on her boyfriend…_

And then_: Lizzie KEPT her promise and respected my crush on Ethan, just like she always has, just like she always said she would…_

And finally: _Lizzie does NOT deserve what Gordo and I did to her!!_

"Miranda!" Ethan called her out of her thoughts.

"What!" Miranda jumped.

"What's going on over there, girl? Why would Lizzie say she and I were doing it?"

"I guess..." Miranda began quietly. "I guess…she just wanted…to get us mad."

"You mean Gordo? She wanted to get Gordo mad?"

"Yeah. That's what I mean."

"Well, why would she want to get Gordo mad?"

"Well, because…because…" Miranda began, but her voice was cracking and her thoughts were roaming again, and in another moment, she was crying buckets. _Damn!_ She was crying buckets with Ethan Craft on the other end of the phone! She considered hanging up, pretending this conversation had never happened, but before she could make even the first move towards doing that, she heard Ethan beseeching, "Miranda! Miranda! Please! Don't cry, darlin'."

When he called her "darlin'" she cried even more.

"Please!" Ethan pleaded. "It's breaking me up, hearing you crying like this. What's wrong? Is there anything I can do to help? Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

"I…you…I shouldn't bother you with all this," Miranda said. "I'm sure I've probably interrupted you on a date—"

"No date tonight," Ethan said. "I'm just hanging out with the guys. Hey, guys! I gotta go, I'll see you later, 'kay?….I'm walking out to my car, Miranda. I'm out the door, I'm almost there, okay?…There…Now! I'm here at my car. You've got me undivided attention, there's nobody around. I want you to talk to me. I want to know what's going on with you, alright?"

Miranda caught her breath and pulled herself up on the bed. "All right!" she decided. "All right! The hell with it! I'll tell you, Ethan! I'll tell you the whole rotten story! What does any of it matter now anyway?"

"It matters," Ethan assured. "Where you're concerned, Miranda, it always matters. Look, I know you and I haven't always been as close as we could have been, but I care about you. I always have. And it's breaking me up that you're hurting over something. So if there's any way I can help…I want to help. Okay?"

Miranda nodded, sniffing back her tears. Ethan waited patiently on the other end of the phone. After a long moment of silence, he quietly coaxed her with, "So…my dear, sweet Miranda…please tell me…why so many tears?"

After that, Miranda ended up spilling the beans. All the beans. Unlike Gordo with Tudge, when Miranda made a commitment to tell all, she spared no detail. It felt good to get all this out in the open. She started at the beginning, telling how she and Gordo had grown closer over the summer, then, one night, unexpectedly found themselves "getting intimate," even though she had all her life been saving herself for the right guy. She told of her despair at having abandoned her ideals, and of how quickly her feelings towards Gordo changed after that. Ethan listened attentively and did not offer any disparaging remarks against either Gordo or herself, for which she was extremely grateful.

Next, Miranda hinted that Gordo and Lizzie had been having some problems just before Lizzie went away to Hillridge for the summer. She didn't know if she should be talking so openly about Lizzie and Gordo's business, but it didn't matter, because Ethan easily said, "You don't have to tiptoe around on this one, Miranda. Lizzie told me all about it. In fact, that's the only reason I even got the idea in my head that it might be okay to go out with her over the summer. If she had come up here saying she and Gordo were tight, I would have never thought to go out with her. I mean, it's not like there's any lack of girls for me to go out with. But she seemed like…like she wanted to try something new. But not too new, dig? Like I told you before, she always stopped me before I got too far."

Miranda sighed. "I wish I would have stopped Gordo when I had the chance. Then none of this would be happening and we would all still be friends. All of us."

"So you're telling me…you all are not friends anymore?"

"I don't see how we ever can be," Miranda said, her voice quavering. And then she told everything that had happened since Lizzie's return the day before, ending with a relatively complete recount of the evening's fireworks.

"Of course, I _think_ that's what happened," Miranda finished up. "I think that's what was said. I'm not completely sure, cos I was crying for a good bit of it, so my perception might be a bit distorted."

"Oh, Miranda…Miranda…" Ethan sympathized. And then he launched into his pep talk, which went on for a good while, during which Miranda listened to him in utter amazement. More than being surprised that he was now smart enough and mature enough to be able to offer some really good advice, Miranda marveled at the depth of his feeling and understanding.

She had never before realized how considerate Ethan could be. He really seemed to care about her. Her heart was warmed and practically tingling as she suggested, "You know, Ethan, you are just blowing me away here with how smart and sensitive you are. I guess it's been a long time since you and I have really talked. I don't think you're that dumb kid any more."

Ethan laughed a little. "No. Now I'm a dumb man."

"But that's just it!" Miranda insisted. "You're not dumb at all! In fact, you're very smart."

"Well, I never was one for book smarts, you know, school smarts," Ethan admitted. "My smarts have really always been more like…people smarts."

"Yes, I can see that," Miranda said, hugging her green throw pillow. "And I just want to let you know that I really appreciate what you're doing for me, just listening to me."

"Hey," Ethan said. "That's what friends are for."

"Am I your friend?" Miranda wondered suddenly.

"I've always thought of you as a friend, Randa."

_Oh…the hell with it! _ Tonight she was pulling out all the stops, wasn't she? She took a deep breath and asked, "Yes, but…I wonder…have you ever thought of me as…as more than a friend?"

There was a pause, and Miranda could almost hear Ethan smiling through the phone. "Miranda," he said gently, "you don't want me."

Miranda pulled back, confused. "Why would you say that?"

"You deserve someone better than me," Ethan said.

"What?" she exclaimed. "How can you say that? And besides, I heard that you said that I was hot."

"You are!" Ethan agreed. "Way hot. You've…uh, grown up very nicely, let's say. And that's great. But you're a nice girl. A good girl."

"Ethan! Haven't you been listening to anything I've said?" Miranda asked. "I just told you. I'm not a 'nice girl, a good girl.' Not anymore. That's all a thing of the past," she added sadly.

"No, it's not," Ethan said. "You had one momentary lapse of judgment with Gordo. And you feel terrible about it. One night of sex followed by a week of remorse hardly makes you a slut."

Miranda had no reply. What he was saying made too much sense.

"There's still hope for you," Ethan said. "You're still a decent person. Me, on the other hand," he went on easily, "I'm a slut."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"It's not ridiculous," Ethan insisted. "You know my reputation. Well, it's all true. I sleep with lots of different women. Been doing so for years. I use women for sex. I'm not bragging about it or anything, I'm just saying. And remember, I always tell the truth, cos it's just too hard to keep up with all that lying. So this is my life. I'm just enjoying the women, enjoying the moment. I'm not looking to change, or settle down, or get serious. At least not yet."

"Maybe someday?" Miranda asked hopefully.

Ethan paused, then smiled. "If I was ever going to settle down," he said, and he was only half-flirting. "I would want it to be with a girl like you."

Miranda smiled. Smiling hurt her face, after all the crying she'd done tonight, but it also felt good. "Then you don't mind if I wait for you?" she flirted back, but she was also half-serious.

Ethan laughed a little. "Knock yourself out, Randa," he said. "Who knows? Stranger things have happened, right?"


	14. Goosebumps

Near midnight, Lizzie sat in her parked car, two blocks away from the house, wondering if she should go home. It was dark, so nobody could see her, and even though it was deadly hot outside, she had the windows rolled up, so nobody could hear her. She was pretty much cried out by this time, but a few sniffles continued to escape periodically. It would have been way too embarrassing to be found like this, her makeup smudged all over her face, her whole demeanor a total wreck. So she sat in the hot, quiet car, sniffling, and trying to figure out what to do next.

As much as she did not want to be found, as luck would have it, there was a sudden knock on the driver's window. Lizzie jumped and screamed. Turning, she saw her stoner roommate, Chester.

"Lizzie?" he questioned slowly, scratching his beard.

She wiped her eyes. She rolled down the window. "Chester?" she said, her voice shaking. "What are you doing here?"

"I was out with my buds, they were dropping me at the house," Chester began, telling his tale as if it were of mythic proportions, "and I saw your car, and I said to Bob, 'Bob! Dude! I think that's Lizzie--my roommate's--car. And I said, 'There's somebody in the car! I think she's in the car! I wonder why she's in the car. I wonder if she broke down. I wonder if she needs help. I wonder if I should stop and help her--''"

"I see," Lizzie said, stopping him before this went on too much longer. "And I appreciate it, Chester, but I'm not broke down, I don't need help, but thanks anyway."

"Well, then…" Chester said, swaying a little as confusion engulfed him.

They looked at each other for a moment. Lizzie did not want to have to explain this to Chester. "Thanks!" she said again, waving.

"Oh yeah, sure…"

He kept looking at her, confused. Finally, he said, "Are you coming home?"

That was a tough question to answer. Lizzie bit her lip. "I don't know," she said quietly.

"Huh…?" Chester said. "Why not? Wait! I know. Is it cos of Gordo and Miranda?"

Lizzie glared at him. "What about them? What do you know?"

"I don't know nothin'!" Chester said, raising his hands.

"Then why would you say that?" Lizzie demanded. "You wouldn't say that unless you knew something."

"I just know…I know they've both been acting kinda weird since you've been gone. There's something going on. I don't know what, but it's weird. I've just been getting these vibes that are really...weird. Especially from Gordo. He's whacked, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Lizzie agreed.

"I don't mean to be saying anything against your boyfriend," Chester amended. "It's none of my business, really, but there have been a few times when I've found him…well, I shouldn't say…"

"That's okay," Lizzie said dejectedly. "It doesn't matter now, anyway. All that matters now is…is…hey, Chester? Would you do me a favor?" she said suddenly.

"Would I…do you…a favor?" Chester repeated.

"Yeah, it would be a really big favor. And it would be only for one night. After that, I don't know what I'm gonna do. But for tonight, well…I'm exhausted. And I don't want to face Miranda, or Gordo if he shows up, and I just need a place to sleep, and I know you got that couch in your room, and if you would just let me crash there for one night…if you would just…sneak me in, and let me sleep on your couch, and not ask any questions…"

"Yeah…" Chester said, nodding his head. "I can do that."

Lizzie sighed in relief. She got out of the car, locked the door, and she and Chester began to walk down the block towards the house. It was so dark they couldn't see each other, and so quiet they could hear every footstep on the concrete.

"Man…" Chester marveled. "Can you hear that? Can you hear our footsteps? Man, is that cool, or what?"

Lizzie smiled a little. At any other moment she would have teased him, "Chester, I think that's the drugs talking." But tonight she just said, "Yeah. That's cool."

They didn't say anything else until they got to the front door. It was well after midnight by this time, and every window was dark. "I'll…go…first…" Chester said in a dramatic stage whisper.

Lizzie stood on the dark front porch, waiting for such a long time, she began to wonder if Chester had simply gone up to his room, rolled his next joint and forgotten all about her. But in a few moments, he was back, whispering, "Gordo is not here. Miranda is, but she's in her room, talking on the phone. Come on! Follow me!"

Lizzie followed Chester through the dark house, up the stairs, and down the hall, past Miranda's room, where she heard a low murmur of phone conversation. She looked longingly at her own room for a moment, wanting at least her pillow, but she was afraid if she went into her room, if she took anything with her, somehow she would be found out. For the moment, she really needed nothing more than to disappear.

Chester opened his door and ushered Lizzie inside. She went immediately to the couch under the window. A half moon was shining in on the nubby cushions. The whole place smelled like pot, and this couch most of all. "Hey, Chester," she whispered, "do you have a sheet or something?"

Chester was turning on a series of lava lamps, so that soon the entire room was aglow in a soothing light. He stood still in the middle of the room, thinking, and then suddenly he grinned. "Yes! I do! I do!" he said softly, yet excitedly. "Wait! Let me see if I can find them. God, Lizzie! You are going to love these sheets!"

"Hey, Chester," she said, "could you not…not say my name? I mean, just in case Miranda goes out in the hallway? I know it's pretty damn easy to hear through these doors sometimes…"

"Oh, yeah! Right! Sorry!" Chester continued searching through his chest of drawers, and finally, from the bottom drawer he produced some dark folded sheets. "Here they are!" he announced. "Li--hey! Do you know what these are? These are Goosebumps sheets! Do you know Goosebumps?"

Lizzie shrugged, confused. "You mean like the little bumps you get on your skin?"

"No!" Chester said excitedly, bringing the sheets and sitting down beside her on the couch. "Well, sort of, I guess. Goosebumps was this…well, it was a bunch of books, first, and then later it was a TV show, and it was all creepy, you know? Like horror stories, only for little kids."

"Oh yeah," Lizzie said. "I remember. I didn't watch it, but Gordo…well, when he was in like third grade or something, he used to read all the books…"

Talking about Gordo made Lizzie immeasurably sad. She felt like she might start crying again.

She saw Chester give her one knowing look. He might be stoned, but he wasn't totally clueless or insensitive. He knew something was going on, and he felt her pain. To ease it, wisely, he chose to put on some music and change the topic.

"Hey, this is System of a Down' he said, "do you know them?"

"Not really," Lizzie said. "I only know that they're—" She had been about to say that they were "a stoner band" but she didn't know if Chester would find that offensive, so she stopped herself.

Chester didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, man," he intoned in awe. "They are…fuckin'...awesome! Aren't they awesome?"

Lizzie listened politely for a moment, then said, "Yeah. They're awesome. Uh…Chester…about the sheets…"

"Oh, yeah! So, the great thing about these sheets," he said, getting up and taking them over to his closet, "is that they freakin' glow in the dark! How cool is that! I mean, especially when you're a little kid. These were my sheets when I was a kid. And every night I would turn on all the lights in the room, so they could absorb all the light…"

But tonight, Chester did not turn on every light in the room. He only turned on the light in his closet, threw the sheets in and quickly shut the door, as if he were trapping a wild animal. Then he plopped down in the middle of his bed and announced, "Your sheets will be ready in a few minutes."

"Thanks, Chester. Thanks again, really, I mean it. And thanks for not…for not asking me anything…"

"That's okay, Li….That's okay. I can tell you got stuff going on. Sometimes you just want to be left alone. That's cool. You can tell me stuff if you want to, but if you don't want to, that's cool too. I'm gonna smoke. You want some?"

Lizzie hesitated. It had been ages since she had smoked. "I…had better not," she said. "I'm…I think I might have a job. They might test. I shouldn't."

"You sure? Cos if you only do it once, only a little bit, it probably won't show up."

"Really?" Lizzie didn't know if that was true or not. It might have only been wishful thinking on Chester's part.

"Sure," Chester assured, but she was not assured. His most persuasive argument followed: "And it might make you feel better."

Lizzie struggled with the temptation. The life she had known was over. Maybe she should do something…different… something to celebrate the end of an era. The end of the Gordo Era. Yes, she wanted to do something, but she wasn't sure that drugs were what she was looking for.

"I got some really killer shit here," Chester offered, pulling a book off his shelf. Lizzie could see him bring out a bag of weed from a hole cut into the pages. "This stuff will cure what ails you, believe me."

"I…well, no, sorry. I really shouldn't," Lizzie decided. "On account of the job, and also because…well, when I smoke, I only get…'moreso.' Know what I mean? Like, if I'm happy, I get all giggly. And if I'm frightened, I get super paranoid. And the way I'm feeling tonight…I really don't want to magnify this. So thanks…but no thanks."

"Suit yourself," Chester said, rolling a joint.

For a few moments the room was quiet, except for the manic beat of System of a Down. Then suddenly there was a different kind of noise.

Chester looked up. "I hear…singing! I hear….music!" he announced with a big dopey grin. "No, I hear…the doorbell…"

"No," Lizzie corrected, reaching inside her purse. "You hear my cell phone."

"Well…you gonna answer that?" Chester wondered.

Lizzie held her hand over her cell phone in her purse. She didn't want to take it out until it was done "singing," since she knew all to well how easily sound traveled through these thin walls, and she didn't want Miranda to suspect that she was in the next room.

"It's probably Gordo," Lizzie shrugged. "He's been calling all night."

"And you don't want to talk to him?" Chester asked.

"No," Lizzie said. "I do not want to talk to him. I have nothing to say to him."

But when the singing had stopped, Lizzie pulled out the phone and flipped it open.

"Ah ha!" Chester surmised. "But you want to know what he has to say to you!"

Lizzie made a sour face. "No, I don't," she insisted, annoyed. Then she amended this lie with "Well, yeah, I do. But it's only because I enjoy hearing him suffer."

"Right…got it…" Chester said vaguely, going back to marveling at the shadows from the lava lamps dancing on his ceiling.

Now Lizzie opened her phone, fully expecting to see Gordo's name on her screen, but…huh! It wasn't Gordo at all! It was Ethan! Intrigued, she punched a few keys and listened.

"Hey, Lizzie darlin'!" came the familiar voice. "You'll never guess who I just got done talking with! Our good friend Miranda! It seems you all have been having a big flip out there. And frankly, I'm a little flabber…flabbergasted, is that the word? Cos you know what Miranda told me? Well…she told me…she told me that _you_ said…that you said that you and I have been having lots and lots of _sex_ over the summer."

There was a big sigh from Ethan, followed by, "Now, Lizzie! Why would you go and say something like that? What were you thinking? You really can't help turning things from bad to worse, can you? Like…it's not bad enough that Miranda and your beloved Gordo are doin' the nasty? I mean…what gives, Liz?"

He sighed again, then continued, "Anyway, I guess it just goes to show you, you can't really trust anyone, can you? So…I'm just checkin' in with you, just wondering how you're holding up under all this. I want to make sure you're alright, Liz. So you give me a call in the morning, okay babe? You know, I miss you already…So call me…'kay?"

Lizzie clicked the phone closed and Chester looked in her direction only long enough to say, "So…is Gordo suffering enough for you?"

Lizzie did not feel compelled to explain to Chester that that had not been Gordo on the phone. It was really none of his business, and frankly, at this point she was way too tired to talk about any of this. "No," she answered Chester stiffly. "He's not suffering nearly enough. Hey, do you think my sheets are ready yet?"

"Oh yeah…sure…" Chester answered vaguely, once again staring at the ceiling, but he did not make a move to retrieve the sheets.

Lizzie huffed, pushed herself up off the couch and walked across the room to get the sheets out of the closet. She fluffed them out over the couch, watching the neon green designs gently floating through the darkness. She grabbed one of the throw pillows and stuffed it inside the pillow case. A scary skeleton stared back at her.

As she settled down on the freshly made-up couch, she suddenly remembered that in the morning she might be getting a call from Lone Star, so she pulled her phone out of her purse and put it on the windowsill above the couch, where she would be sure to hear it. It was past one a.m. now, and she doubted there would be any more calls now, from either Gordo or Ethan.

Now that she was comfortably snuggled into the couch, with the smell of pot not so nearly as strong as it had been a few moments ago, she softened a little and said, "Hey, Chester, I just want to say…Thanks again. I really appreciate this."

Chester made a noise, but said no words.

Lizzie lay back, but as tired as she was, she could not fall asleep. She lay awake, and joined Chester in staring at the lava lamp shadows on the ceiling. The house was completely quiet and still, but her mind was churning and churning. She almost felt as if Chester must have been able to hear her brain churning, because suddenly he lifted his head and whispered, "Lizzie?"

"Hmmm?"

"What are you thinking?"

Lizzie lay back and sighed. "Well, truthfully," she said, "I was thinking about dying my hair. I think it's time for me to make a change in my life, you know? So I was thinking…should I got red, or brunette? Maybe pitch black. Which do you think would look better on me?"

"I like you as a blonde," Chester said simply.

"Thanks," Lizzie answered quietly. For the first time, it occurred to her that she might not be completely safe locked up here in this room with Chester. He was, after all, a guy, and experience had taught her that guys could be real jerks.

"What are _you_ thinking?" she asked carefully, knowing that if he pursued this train of thought about liking her as a blonde, or liking her at all, she was going to have to get up and go to her room across the hall.

But Chester said, "I'm thinking…I'm thinking…how much like a…like an anteater that shadow near the door looks. Do you see it? Do you think it looks like an anteater?"

Lizzie laughed quietly to herself. "Yeah," she said. "An anteater. Sure. I see it. Well, good night, Chester."

"Good night, Lizzie…"


	15. The Gang's All Here

**After this chapter, there is one more. So this story is almost over. I should be finishing it up in the next week or so. But I have started a new story, Summer of David, so I hope you'll go check it out. Hey,thanks to all my loyal readers, and even more thanks to my reviewers!**

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Chapter 15 THE GANG'S ALL HERE

Miranda's bedroom door was open. She had been studiously avoiding Gordo for the entire week since they had slept together, but on this Sunday morning, he was the very person she was most hoping to see. She sat on her bed, absently perusing a _Cosmo_ she had borrowed from Brianna's room as she listened for the squeaky "poofing" noise that always indicated when someone had come in through the front door downstairs.

It was nearly 10:30 before she heard it. Almost immediately she heard Larry Tudgeman, asking which video games he should put in a box. Then she heard Gordo saying that it was all his, pack it all. Then Miranda heard footsteps bounding up the stairs.

Seeing Miranda's open door, Gordo came immediately to it, looking in expectantly. For a moment, neither said anything. It seemed such a long time since the huge blowup that had taken place, right here. Miranda had called him an ass, and he had made her scream. At this moment, though, all was quiet and calm between them.

"Hey…" Gordo said quietly.

"Hey…" Miranda answered calmly.

"Hey, I…well…you know…is Lizzie here by any chance?" Gordo asked suddenly.

Miranda sighed. Oddly, she had hoped his first question might be about her own welfare, how was she holding up after everything that had happened. But really, she couldn't blame him for being concerned about Lizzie. She was somewhat concerned as well.

"No, I haven't seen her," Miranda said.

"Tudge talked to her last night," Gordo explained. "It was kind of unclear whether or not she planned to come home. You don't happen to know where she is?"

"No, Gordo, I don't. But I'm sure she's okay. Lizzie always lands on her feet. Did you say Tudge? Is that him I hear downstairs?"

"Yeah," Gordo said. "He's helping me pack. I'm moving. I talked to his roommate's friend, this guy Otto, I don't know if you know him, but he's got a free room in his apartment so…so I'm moving."

"Oh…" was all Miranda said.

Gordo looked at her and felt how very sad this moment was between them. He thought about trying to say something apologetic, or encouraging, but lately all his efforts with Miranda had been met with such resistance, he was afraid to get too personal with her. His ego and his psyche were badly bruised. He didn't need any more grief at this moment.

"Well…so…" he stuttered uncertainly, gesturing to his room across the hall. "I guess I'll just…you know…start packing…"

"Wait!" Miranda said suddenly. "Before you go, Gordo, I need to tell you something."

Gordo pulled himself back into her doorway. "You do?" he asked hopefully, though not exactly sure what he was hoping for.

Miranda put down her magazine and scooted to the edge of the bed. "Yes," she said. "I think you should know…you should know that last night…I called Ethan."

Gordo rolled his eyes. _Ethan!_ Was he never going to be rid of this chump? He was so sick of hearing about Ethan!

"Anyway," Miranda went on, "we talked for quite a while, and I think it's important that you know…that Ethan says…that it never happened. That he and Lizzie never actually slept together. That she was just making it up. I guess she wanted to make you mad, because she was furious with you for sleeping with me, and she was hurt…so she made it up."

Gordo stared at Miranda in disbelief.

"Well, anyway…I…I just wanted you to know that," she went on awkwardly. "Because with everything that's happened, and everybody breaking up and moving out, I hate how awful it's become between the three of us, and I understand if Lizzie's pissed at you for sleeping with me, but I would hate it if you were pissed with her for sleeping with Ethan when…when that didn't even actually happen."

At this point, Gordo stopped staring and dropped his head into his hands. Oddly, Miranda thought she heard him laughing. Eyeing him suspiciously, she said, "Geez, Gordo! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Miranda," he said flatly. "You are such a simpleton."

"Such a… a WHAT?" she demanded.

"You're so…you're so…and that's what I love about you, Ran. You always want to give everybody the benefit of the doubt, you always want to believe the best about everybody, but in this case—"

"Are you saying you don't believe me?" Miranda asked in shock.

"No," Gordo answered calmly. "I'm saying I don't believe Ethan."

"But--but--why not?" she questioned.

"Well, mainly," Gordo says, "cos he's a guy, and all guys are liars. Especially when it comes to girls. I should know. But also because it's _Ethan,_ and Ethan never says or does anything unless there's something in it for him, unless he's got some…_angle_."

"You don't know him!" Miranda insisted, jumping to Ethan's defense. "He's not like that at all. He has a very open and honest side. And besides, you remember the Fiona Fiasco?"

Gordo thought for a moment, then said, "In ninth grade? Sure. What about it?"

"Well, that was the end of Ethan's lying days. He hasn't lied since then," Miranda stated.

"Oh, Miranda," Gordo said gently, as if to a child. "Maybe he hasn't been _caught_ in a lie since then. Not that you know of, anyway. But let's run with this, shall we? What is it that makes you so convinced that Ethan is telling the truth when he says he doesn't lie?"

"Well," Miranda began. "Last night, he told me…"

Her voice faded, and she knew she deserved Gordo's amused reply of "Hmmm…Logic much, Miranda?"

Remembering her days on the debating team, Miranda pulled herself up boldly and said, "Well, okay…but you have to admit that it's just as likely that the person who says 'I don't lie,' is a truth-teller telling the truth, as it is that he's a liar telling a lie."

"Of course," Gordo conceded, "either is _possible. _ But in this particular case, I think it's much more likely that you're viewing the hunky, dreamy Ethan Craft through the rose colored glasses of your pathetic CRUSH—"

Gordo paused, amazed at how much bitterness has crept into his voice. Amazed…but not sorry. And so he went on, in the same tone, "Me personally, I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. And you know I couldn't throw him very far. Because he is, after all, _so _tall, and _so _muscular and so totally HUNKY, as you and Lizzie never tire of pointing out. I mean, c'mon, Miranda! How far could I throw him? I wouldn't be surprised if his _dick_ alone weighs at least twenty pounds! At least according to Lizzie—"

Disgusted, Miranda spat out, "Jealous much, Gordon?"

He stared at her.

"You're impossible!" Miranda added, crossing her arms.

And she stared right back at him.

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Downstairs in the driveway, Larry Tudgeman was gently placing Gordo's primo collection of X-Box video games in the back seat of his car when his ears were suddenly accosted by a loud blast of Pink Floyd. Looking up through the rear window, he noticed that a red Maserati Spyder had just pulled up to within an inch of his bumper. Straightening up, Tudge saw a shock of long blonde hair—

Lizzie! Could it be Lizzie? A moment later, his hopes were dashed. Even more than dashed. For Ethan Craft was slamming the car door and walking towards him, grinning, "Hey, hey! Tudgeman, my man! How's it hangin'?"

Tudge stood up straighter, cleared his throat. He tried to stop his hand from reaching up to hide the Bermuda Triangle of zits on the left side of his chin. There was something about Ethan Craft that always made him feel like more of a nerd than he actually was.

"It's hangin' fine," Tudge answered stiffly. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Whoa-ho!" Ethan admonished. "Is that any way to greet old school chum?"

"I just mean…what are you doing here?" Larry repeated. "Haven't you caused enough trouble already?"

Ethan looked squarely at Tudge. He wasn't going to get into a debate with this nerd. "I'm looking for Lizzie," he said simply. "Do you know if she's here?"

"Nobody knows where Lizzie is," Tudge answered irritably. "No thanks to _you_, I might add."

"That's fine," Ethan said, patting Tudge on the shoulder as he whipped out his cell phone. "I'll track her down myself."

"You shouldn't go in there!" Tudge cried as Ethan headed towards the front door, which he now mentally kicked himself for leaving open.

Ethan turned and eyed Tudge suspiciously. "Why? Is Lizzie in there?"

"I told you. Nobody knows where Lizzie is."

"Then…then…" Ethan stood blankly for a moment, then suddenly laughed. "Oh, don't tell me! Is Gordon in there? Is that it? Are you trying to _warn_ me, cos you're afraid he might _kick my butt_?"

Tudge had nothing to say to this, and Ethan continued to walk into the house as he pressed the "5" on his Razr phone three times. Lacey, Larissa, LaShonda..._Ooh,_ _baby! _Ethan remembered with a sudden thrill… Leslie, Lenora, Libby, Lil Caesar's, Linda…oh! And there she was.

_Lizzie…_

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Lizzie woke up with the sun shining in her face. She was awake for a few moments before she realized she was not in her own bed. She opened her eyes and saw a skeleton on her pillowcase. Slowly, it all came back to her, the horrifying events of the night before. She looked across the room at Chester, spread out on his sheets and snoring with his mouth wide open. The music had long since stopped, but the multitude of lava lamps blobbed on, silent and ineffective in the morning light.

Suddenly Chester snorted and rolled over. The snoring stopped. Now…Lizzie could hear voices…voices from the next room…

It was Miranda and Gordo. Lizzie would know their voices anywhere. She knew it was them, and she could pretty much guess the tone of their conversation, but she couldn't make out any of the words. She sat up, straining to hear what they were saying, but to no avail.

She threw her legs over the side of the couch, ready to tiptoe, intending to press her ear against the thin wooden door, but before she could even touch one foot to the floor, a sudden ringing all but jarred her out of her skin. Frantically she looked around, zeroing in on her cell phone. Snapping it open was the work of a nanosecond. There had been no time to see who was calling her.

"Hello?" she whispered.

"Lizzie, darlin'! Ethan here," came the familiar voice. "It appears I have found you, when no one else can."

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Gordo and Miranda were still staring at each other when they heard the familiar ring of Lizzie's cell phone. They continued staring, but suddenly their expressions were drastically changed.

"That's Lizzie's phone!" Miranda announced.

"Where is it?" Gordo wondered.

Miranda jumped from the bed and the two slinked into the hallway, their ears working overtime to track down the source.

"I think it's somewhere upstairs!" Gordo whispered. "I think—"

"Shhh!" Miranda demanded.

They stood still in the middle of the upstairs hallway, grasping each other's arms as they listened to the silence of this Sunday morning. All was lost! Had they only imagined it? But then…a moment more, and they heard a voice, a whispering voice…Lizzie's voice! And it seemed to be coming from…

From _Chester's_ room…?

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"Ethan!" Lizzie hissed into the phone. "Why are you calling me so early?"

"It's not early," Ethan said easily. "It's practically 11 o'clock, Liz. I'm downstairs."

"You're…you're _what?_" Lizzie asked anxiously.

"I'm downstairs. At your house. You didn't answer my call last night, so when I woke up this morning, I was concerned, so I thought, what the hell? It's a beautiful day for a drive, I think I'll go check on my favorite girl."

"You're downstairs?" Lizzie said, heading towards the door.

"In your living room," Ethan confirmed. "At the bottom of the stairs."

"_Don't come up!_" Lizzie said frantically.

"Why not?"

Why not was because Lizzie knew that Gordo and Miranda were just outside this door, somewhere in the vicinity of the upstairs hallway, and the last thing she wanted to deal with right now was a meeting with Gordo, Miranda _and _Ethan, all at the same time!

"Don't come up!" Lizzie said again into the phone, most insistently. "Listen to me, Ethan! Stay downstairs."

She unlocked and threw open Chester's door as she heard Ethan smiling into the phone. "Why, Liz? Is that where you are? Are you upstairs? Are you in your bedroom? Are you not decent? Are you in your 'jammies?" he teased. "Do you not want me to see you in your cute little—"

As Ethan was saying this, he climbed the stairs. As Lizzie listened, she was flying into the upstairs hallway. They would have easily met in the middle, had they not both been stopped by the obstacle of Gordo and Miranda, huddled together in the hallway, looking first at Lizzie, then at Ethan, then back at Lizzie…and then back at Ethan.

The silence at this moment was more deafening than anything that had yet transpired this morning. Nobody said anything, but everyone was thinking…

Lizzie looked over Gordo and Miranda to the tall spectacle at the head of the stairs that was Ethan and thought: _You…IDIOT!_

Gordo glanced up at Ethan and thought: _That scum! What is he doing here?_

Ethan ogled at Miranda and thought: _Oh yeah! Sexy legs…_

Gordo stared at Lizzie and thought: _…Chester? Oh no! Has she become such a slut now she'll sleep with ANYONE?_

Miranda gazed at Ethan and thought:…_The eyes…the hair…Hey! Love the ponytail!_

Lizzie took in all three of them and thought: _Oh, crap…NOW WHAT?_

Ethan focused on Gordo and Miranda and suddenly a huge stupid grin began to spread across his face. "Hey!" he said. "The lovebirds! I thought I might find you two together."

Gordo opened his mouth to speak. Miranda opened her mouth to protest. Lizzie plowed through them both, grabbing Ethan by the arm. "C'mon!" she said, digging in her fingernails as she began to lead him towards the stairs. "We've got to get out of here…NOW!"

But Gordo somehow swung around and inserted himself between the Lizzie/Ethan pair and the top of the stairs. He didn't know why, and he had no idea what he intended to do. He only knew he could NOT allow these two to disappear together.

At the same moment, Tudge appeared at the bottom of the stairs, calling up, "Hey! Need any help up there?"

Lizzie looked down at Tudge in annoyance. She looked across at Gordo in frustration. She looked up at Ethan in disbelief. He was still grinning! He thought this was all so highly amusing! _The idiot!_

Lizzie tried to move forward, but Gordo was there. She turned around…and there was Miranda, still googly-eyed, staring at Ethan.

"Aaaargh!" Lizzie cried in exasperation, and she pulled Ethan by the arm, not down the stairs, and not deeper into the hallway, but directly across into her bedroom, where she quickly locked the door behind them.


	16. GOING OUT WITH A BANG

**Well, this is it, this is the end. I've had a ton of fun writing this, and I hope all of you have had fun reading it. Though it's not really a "fun" type of story, is it? And most of the characters were not really likeable, were they? Well, maybe they'll all grow up a bit after all this. I don't know. Already I'm thinking I would like to follow these characters to see how they cope with life after the events in this story, but if I ever did this, it would be a long time from now. Right now I'm really excited about my next story, Summer of David, and I'm hoping to get some more chaps up on that really soon! Summer is such a great time for writing, ain't it?**

**Well, here we go. This is…**

CHAPTER 16 – THE END

"Ethan, what the hell are you doing here?" Lizzie demanded angrily as she locked the door then stared at him standing in the middle of her bedroom.

Ethan tried to laugh as he casually walked over to the dresser, leaning against it. "Lizzie, I've got to tell you," he said, picking up a crystal Bambi figurine and twisting it against the light from the window, amused by the resulting rainbows. " I'm not really feeling the love in this house, you know? Downstairs Tudge was all over my case, and just now in the hall Gordo looked like he wanted to rip my eyes out." He put down the small statue and looked directly at Lizzie. "Actually…sadly…Miranda was the only one who really seemed glad to see me."

"Miranda!" Lizzie huffed. "Don't talk to me about Miranda! I'd like to forget all about Miranda. The skank!"

"Well, I can't forget Miranda," Ethan said. "She's the reason I'm here, actually."

"You're here for Miranda?" Lizzie asked, unable to keep an edge of jealousy out of her voice.

"No," Ethan said evenly. "I didn't say I was here _for_ her. I said I was here _because _of her. Because she called me last night. And she told me everything that's been going on. And I was concerned about you, Lizzie. So I'm not here for her. I'm here for _you_."

Appeased, Lizzie calmed down. She sat on the edge of her bed, and Ethan leaned against the dresser. For a moment it was extremely quiet, yet they could easily hear mumbling in the hallway. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Go away!" Lizzie hissed, without even bothering to ask who it was.

The knocking ceased. Lizzie and Ethan stared at each other from across the room.

"So Miranda called you?" Lizzie said finally, bitterly. "Then, I'm sure she told you what I said."

"That you and I have been doing the nasty?"

Lizzie nodded silently.

Ethan sighed. "According to Miranda, you said that we slept together lots and lots of times over the summer."

Lizzie looked at him defiantly.

He shook his head. "Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie…"

"I don't want to hear it!" she exploded. "I had to say something to get them mad."

"Them? Who them? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Gordo and Miranda! Who else?"

Confused, Ethan questioned "Gordo, I get. But why Miranda? I mean, I understand _why _you'd want to get her mad. After all, she slept with your boyfriend. But I don't understand why it would _make _her mad if…"

"Oh, Ethan! You're such an imbecile sometimes! You know Miranda has the biggest crush on you. Always has. Always will."

"I know," he admitted simply. "But so do lots of girls."

Lizzie laughed bitterly. "Not like Miranda."

"Oh, come on!" Ethan chided. "Miranda's all…she's all sweet and innocent. I mean, this 'crush' she has on me is left over from middle school. It's just kind of…cute. And endearing. I mean, it's not about…sex, or anything. Miranda Sanchez is such a good girl, she never thinks about sex."

"News Flash!" Lizzie exclaimed in exasperation. "Have you so quickly forgotten? Gordo and Miranda…?"

Ethan kind of chuckled. "Well, yeah…now that you put it that way, I guess she _does _think about sex."

"Think about it, and do it!" Lizzie exclaimed. "And with my boyfriend, no less!"

"Yeah, that really sucks," Ethan agreed. "I don't suppose there's any way it was just a 'friends with benefits' kind of thing?"

"No," Lizzie said, feeling the tears well up behind her eyes. "If it was, I could maybe get over that, I could almost understand that. I mean…that wouldn't be quite so bad, would it? But Miranda's not built that way. And neither is Gordo. If they slept together, it's cos…it's cos…they really…"

In another moment Lizzie found herself crying. She covered her face with her hands. There was another knock at the door, this time, more insistent.

"_Go away_!" Ethan yelled the warning this time, and the knocking instantaneously stopped.

Lizzie fell upon her bed, covering her face with her pillow.

Ethan looked at Lizzie and sighed. Crying females. He'd had more than his fair share. It was always such a pain in the ass having to deal with them. But then, he reminded himself, a situation like this could also be a gateway to tremendous opportunity.

He walked across the room and sat down on the edge of Lizzie's bed, putting his hand across her back. "But look, Lizzie!" he said suddenly, trying to make her feel better. "Remember what you told me, that first night we went out? You told me that you weren't even so sure about you and Gordo anymore, that it was getting…stale. Yeah, I think that's the word you used: stale. So…why all the tears now? I would think you might instead feel…relieved. I mean, at least, now you know. And it gives you an easy way out."

"I don't want a way out!" Lizzie bawled. "I just want everything to go back to the way it was…when none of this had happened, and nobody had slept with anybody else, and we were all friends, and it was all good…"

Ethan sighed. "I don't think that can happen," he said gently. "I know it's not what you want to hear, Liz, but…well, I don't have a time machine, neither do you, none of this can be undone. I wish I could undo it all for you. I wish I could make you feel better somehow. Tell me, Lizzie…cos I hate to see you crying like this…is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

Lizzie shook her head, and Ethan remained on the bed behind her, patting her back, comforting her. It took a few minutes, but soon she felt comforted. She turned on the bed and looked at Ethan. He smiled at her sadly.

"You know how beautiful you are, Lizzie? Even when you cry, you're beautiful."

She returned the sad smile, but didn't say anything. Outside the door, they could hear Gordo and Miranda talking, arguing. Lizzie turned her head, her feelings turning at the same time, from something less like sorrow into something more like anger.

"God! I hate them both!" she said.

Ethan took her hand and squeezed it, but he didn't say anything.

They sat quietly for a little longer, and eventually Lizzie found her thoughts wandering. When she once again focused on Ethan, she said to him, "I'm thinking about changing my hair color. What do you think? Should I go brunette…or red?"

Without hesitation, Ethan answered, "Brunette. Dark, almost black. That would be nice."

Lizzie looked at him, puzzled, wondering who he was thinking about. More specifically, she wondered if he was thinking about Miranda. His expression told nothing. Annoyed, she sat stright up and boldly added, "I'm also thinking about maybe cutting my hair. Really really super short."

This time there was a reaction. Ethan moaned, then proclaimed, "Lizzie, stop! Stop right there, and let's analyze this, shall we? Now, answer me this: who are your mad at? Gordo…or yourself?"

"Why would you ask that?" Lizzie said indignantly. "I tell you I want to cut my hair and you ask if I'm mad at myself? How the hell did you put _that_ one together, Einstein?"

"Well, in my experience," Ethan explained, "not all the time, but a lot of times, if a woman cuts her hair really really short, it's to let the world know that she's angry."

"That's ridiculous!"

"No, it's not. And like I said, it's not always true. But, you gotta admit, Liz, in your case, right here, right now…"

Lizzie knew he was looking right through her, so she quietly admitted "Well of course I'm pissed as hell at Gordo. You know that."

"I do!" Ethan agreed enthusiastically. "And you have every right to be. And I can understand if you want to punish him for what he did with Miranda. But cutting off all your beautiful hair is not the way to go, Lizzie. If you want to punish him, there's a better way. A much…_much_ better way. You know what I'm talking about…"

By the arch in his eyebrow, Lizzie instantly knew what he was talking about. "Oh, you _would_ think of that, wouldn't you!" she spat out disgustedly, turning away from him on the bed.

He smiles at her sympathetically, lightly touched her shoulder and said, "C'mon, Liz. You already told him we did it, so it wouldn't really be that big of a deal, would it? But still, you know, it would piss him off…_so_ much, especially if he could _hear _us doing it, right now, right through this door…"

Lizzie knew this was true. And she also knew it would piss off Miranda, who was probably also listening through the door. But she wasn't going to say anything more to Ethan about Miranda

As Ethan gave Lizzie a moment to consider his proposal, he began to feel very agitated, very excited, surprising even himself with how turned on he was getting by the idea of having Gordo listening to him and Lizzie having sex. In another moment he could not help but continue his persuasion with "Oh, come on, Liz, you can't tell me the idea hasn't already occurred to you. I mean, what did you drag me in here for anyway, if not that?"

"Ethan, you pig!" she says in a tone of revulsion that was only half-convincing. "Everything doesn't have to be about sex, you know."

"I know," he said. "But at this particular moment, I think it is. I think what's going on here today, with you and Gordo and me and Miranda…it's all about sex, isn't it? It's all about sex…and love…and guilt…and manipulation…and it's all about the power than sex has to turn everything inside out and upside down. Cos that's what's happened, isn't it? And I think that what you want most of all right now, is to not be the _victim _of any of this inside out upside down stuff, but to be the one who has that power, the one who's calling the shots…"

Lizzie considered all this, feeling very miserable about everything that was going on, but she also suspected that on some deep level Ethan could be right. In the end it might make her feel worse, not better, but at this moment, she felt a need for some kind of event to mark the end of the Gordo Era. And, at this moment, she decided, she needed to be the one with the power to make that happen.

Experience had taught her that as much of a womanizer as Ethan was, he would do nothing unless she first gave him permission. She had the power to say yes or no, to make this happen, or prevent it from happening. So she looked at the ceiling, then she looked at Ethan, then she looked at the locked door, imagining Gordo and Miranda on the other side, and her jaw was as set as her fate.

"Okay," she said resolutely. "Let's do it. Let's fuck. Right here, Ethan, right now. Let's fuck."

Ethan felt a bolt of electricity surge through his body. Victory! The path was clear. He jumped off the bed and began undoing his zipper.

Lizzie sighed resignedly, immediately wondering why she had agreed to do this. Already she wanted to take it back, but so quickly Ethan's pants were off and she could see how hard he was, his enormous cock straining to break through his boxers.

Suddenly Lizzie realized that Ethan was so quickly and completely aroused because to him the act of persuading her to do this was as much a part of foreplay as any actual foreplay they might engage in. The fact that she had given in to his suggestion was just as satisfying to him as an actual orgasm.

Perhaps she had allowed Ethan to mislead her into thinking that by having sex with him she would be the one with the power. Would that really to be the case? Or maybe it was Ethan who possessed the real power, and she was nothing more than his conquest…his prize?

To put herself back in control, Lizzie laid down the rules, saying, "Listen, Ethan: I'm not taking off my top. You can fuck me, and there should be a significant amount of noise, of course, enough to get through the door. But just moaning and groaning, no talking. I don't want to have to talk to you while we're doing this."

"All right, all right," Ethan agreed, gently pushing her down on the bed.

"And no kissing, either," Lizzie went on as Ethan pulled down her shorts. "It's just sex. Nothing more, nothing less. I'm using you as much as you're using me."

"I understand," Ethan said, relieving her of her panties.

Instinctively, Lizzie pulled up her legs, trying to hide herself. "And you've got to use a rubber. There are some in the top drawer."

Ethan stood up and chuckled. "Ha! Do you really think a condom that fits Gordob is also going to fit me? Never mind. I've got a few in my wallet. 'Be prepared,' that's my motto. After all, I used to be a Boy Scout, long time ago. Remember?"

"Sure," Lizzie said quietly, sadly, staring at the ceiling. "But that was a really long time ago…wasn't it?"

As Ethan retrieved the condom from his pants on the floor, Lizzie continued staring at the ceiling, the sense of sadness deepening inside her. She watched Ethan deftly tear open the tiny square, drop his boxers, then expertly roll on the thin layer of protection as far as it would go. They both looked up at each other at the same moment. And it was at that moment that Gordo began to pound on the outside of the bedroom door, crying "Lizzie! Lizzie!"

Ethan turned his head and opened his mouth to shout back an angry reply, but Lizzie covered her face with her hands and said "No. Don't."

He looked at her, lying compliantly half-naked on the bed.

"It's good," she said flatly, through her hands. "He's there. He knows. That's all I want."

Ethan nodded and took a step towards the bed.

"Remember," Lizzie said quietly as she uncovered her face and lowered her legs to allow him better access. "Just fuck me, Ethe. That's all."

"I know…" he agreed, straddling her.

"And I'm not taking off my top."

"I _know…_" he breathed, lowering his body onto hers.

As Lizzie closed her eyes and spread her legs, Gordo's knocking seemed to grow more frantic. It was if he could see through the door and knew exactly what was happening. So…it seemed the act of persuasion was, indeed, all the foreplay she was going to get from Ethan. Tears began to trickle from each of Lizzie's eyes as she felt him brushing and poking against her.

As Ethan began to make some headway, Lizzie gasped lightly.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry!" he apologized. "Should I…? Would you like me to…?"

"No," Lizzie said resignedly. "Just do it, Ethe. Quickly. Please. Just do it."

Ethan nodded, and raised her hips, entering her with one smooth thrust. Now Lizzie gasped again, as she felt the sudden burning of his presence inside her body. Yes, it burned. As she knew it should.

Ethan moaned, resisting the urge to give into the pleasure. He wanted this to last a long, long time. Lizzie was so…so sweet, and the added attraction of her boyfriend beating at the door, bleating out her name over and over…well, he had to wonder if he had ever felt this turned on before. This was a true conquest. This was ultimate power.

But as he began to move rhythmically against Lizzie's spread legs, he found that even this level of power wasn't enough for him. His head was spinning as he grinned down at Lizzie and whispered, "Do you think he knows?"

Lizzie nodded, biting her lip, trying to hold back her tears. She couldn't speak.

"Shall we give him more?" Ethan asked.

"More…what?" she managed.

"More…intense…more…noise…._more_…."

But Ethan couldn't talk anymore either. He just started pounding her as hard and as fast as he could, so that she gasped and moaned and cried, steadying herself on the creaking bed, while Ethan grunted with each thrust deep into her body. Now the knocking on the door was also more like pounding, as Gordo screamed curses at Ethan, frantically jiggling the doorknob.

"Oh, God!" Lizzie cried, catching her breath long enough to ask, in a fully panicked voice, "What if…what if he gets in?"

"Oh, man! That would be the best!" Ethan exclaimed. "I would love it if Gordon could see me banging his girlfriend!"

"I'm not…his girlfriend…_anymore_!" Lizzie screamed hysterically.

"Still," Ethan insisted, between labored breaths above her. "Wouldn't it be…so cool? Wouldn't it be…oh, yeah…but...but…there's one more thing…one more…oh, Lizzie….baby…I need…I need…"

Rather than say what he needed, Ethan reached up Lizzie's body, seeking her breasts under her tank top.

She grabbed his hand and yelled, "No! I told you, I'm not taking off my top. No feeling me up, either."

"Oh, but your nipples…" he moaned, aching for them.

"No!" Lizzie insisted. "No nipples. No feeling me up. And definitely no kissing! Just fuck me, alright?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Ethan replied, then continued to comply, in gracious silence. But only for a few more moments, for his attention was once again quickly drawn to that which Lizzie had said he could not have: the silhouette of her hard nipples under her shirt. He needed to see them, he needed to touch them. Fucking Lizzie was good, but he needed more.

"You know, Lizzie, you're such a bad girl," he said finally, shoving deeper inside her. "What makes you think you get to be the one in control here?"

"Power…" she reminded, tensing herself up to take all that he was giving her. He was a lot bigger, and a lot rougher than Gordo had ever been, but she wasn't going to tell him that. "You taught me that, Ethan," she elaborated, gritting her teeth. "It's all about…power…"

"Yeah, but…I don't think you're remembering _all_ that we talked about," Ethan said. "All that I taught you…don't you remember?"

"Remember what?" she breathed.

"All about…taking turns…with the power…" Ethan said, once again reaching for her breasts.

She slapped his hand away.

"Selfish…bitch…" he muttered, withdrawing.

"What!" Lizzie screamed.

"Lizzie!" Gordo screamed outside the door. "Lizzie, oh God, Lizzie!"

"Yeah, you know," Ethan said, ignoring Gordo's cries and concentrating completely on Lizzie. "All that stuff about…about…being….a _Slave_…about how you ought to…you know…take turns…"

"So?" Lizzie demanded.

"So…take turns…" Ethan breathed, holding her eyes with his own.

"No," Lizzie said strongly, staring right back at him.

They continued staring at each other as Ethan continued pounding his cock into her. In the end, it was less the power of his cock and more the power of his eyes that caused her to yield…

For as she held Ethan's gaze, she recalled their conversation of only a few minutes ago, and suddenly realized that as much as she felt the need to punish Gordo and Miranda by making them listen to her having sex with Ethan, she was also, indeed, punishing herself. She deserved to be punished. She had been a bad girlfriend to Gordo, she must have been, or he would have never cheated on her. And she had been a bad friend to Miranda, spending all that time in Hillcrest hanging out with Ethan, when all the while she knew that was exactly what Miranda would have most liked to do.

She was not a good girlfriend, and she was not a good friend. She didn't deserve to be treated like anything better than a misbehaving Slave…

So, at last, she closed her eyes, softened, pliable, compliant. She listened to Gordo, groaning her name on the other side of her door, and whispered to Ethan, "What do you want me to do?"

Ethan grinned. "Now, there's my good little Slave Girl," he said gleefully. "I want you to take off your top. I want your breasts, Slave Girl…and your nipples…I'm your Master, and your nipples are mine, all mine, to do whatever I want. And I'm not going to be able to come until I'm sucking on your luscious nipples. So give them to me. Now."

Lizzie took a deep breath, paused only a moment, then pulled her thin top right over the top of her head. The shirt got stuck around her wrists, but as she struggled to free herself, Ethan said, "No. Leave it like that. And leave your hands like that, above your head, and let me look at you…" She was now naked and fully exposed to Ethan, completely his Slave Girl in every way.

"Ohhh, baby…that's it…that's better…" he sighed, running his hands up and down the sides of her naked body.

"Ethan, stop it!" she squirmed.

"Hey!" he said sternly. "I'll touch you if I want. I'll tickle you if I want…SlaveGirl. And you'll have nothing to say about it."

"But--"

But he stopped her objections with a simple look. She shut her mouth and let him look at her. He tickled her again, and she whimpered, but said nothing. Then he reached for her nipples and squeezed them. Hard. She stiffened her body and closed her eyes, enduring it, but still, she said nothing.

"Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie…" Ethan congratulated her with a kiss, his tongue going deep into her mouth. "My good…good little Slave Girl…"

After that, Ethan played endlessly with Lizzie's breasts, her entire body, stimulating her so much that despite the incredible range of mixed emotions she was feeling, biology finally kicked in and she grew unbearably aroused under the power of his teasing hands and lips and teeth. He tortured her by not allowing her to come until he did, but she had only been whimpering for relief a few moments before he also reached his point of no return and they screamed and groaned together, finally collapsing in one might mound of flesh on the sweaty bed.

Lizzie turned her head to the side, and a tear fell onto the pillow. It was done. It was official. The Gordo Era was over.

Tudge had gone downstairs to sit alone in the kitchen, the point in the house furthest from the noisy melodrama upstairs. Chester was still sleeping off the joints he had smoked the night before. So as Lizzie and Ethan lay together as a single lump of flesh, there was only one sound that could be heard in the entire house: that of Gordo, slumped in the hallway, banging his head against the bottom of Lizzie's door.

Miranda had slammed herself into her room the moment she heard the creaking of Lizzie's bed, followed by Ethan's husky groans of pleasure. She had thrown a pillow over her head in an attempt to drown out the sounds from Lizzie's room, but a morbid fascination with sex in general and with Ethan in particular had her guiltily peeking her ears out from under that pillow more than a few times.

But now that those noises had stopped, she could not bear the empty, hollow sound of Gordo rhythmically beating his head against Lizzie's door. That sound was not right. Nothing was right. And nothing would ever be right again, she feared.

She could no longer stand the way the world sounded, or felt, or looked. So she got up and turned on her stereo, hoping to drown out the emptiness. As luck would have it, though, Soundgarden was in the machine, singing how love was just like suicide. Resignedly, she turned up the volume, lay back on the bed and listened.

_Bit down on the bullet now  
I had a taste so sour  
I had to think of something sweet__Love's like suicide_

_  
Safe outside my gilded cage  
With an ounce of pain  
I wield a ton of rage  
Just like suicide _

But as Miranda stared at the ceiling, barely breathing, she felt that she was beyond any thoughts even vaguely resembling suicide. At last, she felt no rage, no pain. Instead, she felt nothing. Nothing was sour, nothing was sweet. Nothing was anything. It was all gone. It was all shattered beyond repair. It was all irreversibly… spoiled.


End file.
